When Disaster Strikes
by Star-Of-Radiance
Summary: Wedding bells are in the air for the new king and he's marrying an actual princess. But a series of mysterious disasters threaten the ultra-important event and is it true love? Liam doesn't know. Combine with catfighting mothers/queens; over-protective brothers; dopey cousins; a drunken uncle; Len wants a date; the groom has issues and Liam is struggling with love. CHAOS and WAR.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : I don't own The Royals. _E!_ Does. **

**This is not a prequel to my other story, but this offers a whole new storyline and insight and a lot of focus for more of the characters.**

* * *

 **Two households, both alike in dignity... From ancient grudge break to new mutiny**

* * *

What do you do when disaster strikes?

Imagine when everything is perfectly planned and thought of, and it seems like nothing could ever go wrong. That's a good time to sit back, relax and let your guard down, right?

 _Wrong!_ It's always the wrong thing to do, _especially_ if you are a royal.

Let's be very clear here: the event in question is a wedding. And weddings are not like wars. At least that's not how they're supposed to be.

But while weddings have flowers, cakes and dresses; and wars have guns, artillery fire and uniforms, they both have many things in common.

Namely; Anarchy. Chaos. People marching in straight lines; stress; trauma; threats; doubts; the trail of tears and frustration; anxiety and fear. The sheer power of determination and courage which, ultimately ends in the event being played out according to everyone's wishes, or in loss and defeat.

This wedding involves a beautiful bride who looks more like a goddess, plucked from a world of tales and magic. A brutally handsome groom who charges in heroically, like a knight; a drunken uncle; dopey cousins; two catfighting mothers-in-law-to-be; a family unwilling to let their daughter go; a bridesmaid who wants to bring a date; an adorable junior bridesmaid; and the Best Man who's facing nerves, stress, and dealing with turbulent issues of his own.

Only, unlike other stories, they're royalty. All of them, except for the cute junior bridesmaid, but she was the head of security's little girl, Sarah Alice. But unfortunately, this just so happens to not just be another wedding, but the so-called 'wedding of the century'.

So, stress, trauma, tears, tantrums, catfights, parties, jealous issues, drunkenness, nerves, superiority complexes, wedding saboteurs and general drama?

That's right, so hold on world.

God save the King.

* * *

The eyes of the world watched and cameras flashed.

HM, His Majesty Robert Henstridge, newly-crowned king of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth Countries flashes a picture-perfect smile. Beside him, his bride-to-be, the breathtaking, devastatingly beautiful HRH, Princess Aglaia of the Hellenic Kingdom of Greece, had her own heartbreaking smile.

The couple dazzled the excited crowds.

"It's a true miracle," the presenter gushed. "King Robert, formerly prince, thought to be tragically murdered, has now returned amidst a chaotic, scandal-struck monarchy to redeem their names and save his country from anarchy. He's claimed his throne and fallen in love with one of the most beautiful princesses in the world, plucked from a land of myth and legend- a true fairytale romance."

"Yes, that's right Elsie and-" the presenter's voice trailed off as a decanter of whiskey smashed against the screen, causing it to flicker, sizzle and spark. _Whoosh,_ a flash of smoke and fumes. Then nothing.

Cyrus Henstridge, formerly king of Britain slugged his other decanter of whiskey. Already he was regretting throwing that bottle. Who throws a good bottle of whiskey when you've got more than enough sorrows to drink out? That's right, the deposed and dethroned king of England, the evil uncle.

At least he got rid of the damned telly.

He swilled his bottle down.

"Can't do this," he slurred. "Can't believe-"

"Can't believe what?" A simpering sweet, high voice asked. He turned, nearly staggering drunkenly. Cyrus squinted.

Veruca Popperwell, Duchess of Essex, Cyrus' ex-wife was smiling benignly at him, but her blue-grey eyes were cold.

"Still drinking away now, Cyrus?" She asked, breezily as she picked up an empty decanter between her long fingers. Veruca sniffed and put it down.

"So you're going to sit here, drinking yourself to death, just as you did when your supposedly, legally dead nephew comes back in order to claim the throne, and now you're giving him a chance to hump away one of the most beautiful women in the world, in order to produce a legitimate heir to the throne?" Veruca challenged.

Cyrus sighed. "Look, I don't know what you're planning now-"

"A retaliation, strike-back," his ex-wife demanded. "For Penelope's throne."

Cyrus snorted. "Even if Robert-dear doesn't produce an heir, there're still the twin freaks, the bane of my existence." He took another gulp. "And their mother."

Veruca startled him again by slapping him. "Not again," Cyrus whined, clutching his cheek.

"Where is that man who wouldn't let anyone say no to him?" She demanded. _SLAP!_ "Where is that man who slithered and schemed his way onto England's throne?" _SLAP!_ "Where is that man who took a leaf out of Machiavelli's book, neutralised his enemies and fought to have his way on top?" _SLAP!_

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Make a habit out of doing this, my dear, and you'll lose a hand. Or a _head._ It's treason to strike the king."

" _Former_ king," she spat. "The one who relinquished his rights and title, and surrendered his throne to his younger, more charismatic, _strapping_ nephew."

"Ouch," Cyrus mocked. "But still a king. A crowned king will always be a king in Britain."

That was true. Unlike in other countries, British monarchs take a constitutional vow to remain king for life. But this didn't mean that the country couldn't have two kings. One the reigning monarch and active, the other deposed, dethroned and watched very carefully. The British public, parliament and Cabinet had all shown their support towards Robert and everyone else had all but thrown in their approval publicly.

Leaving Cyrus… Like this.

"If you're still a king," his ex-wife hissed. "Then why are you _not_ doing something about this?"

"What? Say 'I object' when the Archbishop of Canterbury calls for it?" He scoffed. "Find a list of reasons to make sure this wedding doesn't happen? Give them cold feet?"

The smile on Veruca's powder-pale face made him pause.

"Yes, that should do it," he murmured. "But Robert doesn't trust me." Not anymore. But a king knew when to cut his losses, and a favourite nephew was one of them. "But the bride…"

The bride was HRH Princess Aglaia, a Greek and Danish princess, the youngest child and only daughter of the Greek King Konstantinos and his queen, who had herself been born a princess in Denmark. And it was no secret that Queen Anastasia loathed Queen Helena and the feeling was mutual. The two of them had been in cahoots ever since they were teenagers bitching about each other and now their favoured children were getting married.

Cyrus smiled slowly. "That should do it. Now, where's that good, lovely shag you promised me?"

* * *

Queen Helena of the United Kingdom and Queen Anastasia of the Hellenic Kingdom faced off each other as rivals.

Queen Helena was a beautiful brunette, stunning and gorgeous, even in her fifties- she looked like half her age, skin flawless, figure to die for. By contrast, Queen Anastasia was a blaze of golden beauty, that famous mane of thick, very soft, gently waving hair in an unbelievably golden shade, like sunshine and spun gold, her flawless skin a creamy ivory, her figure effortlessly graceful and tall.

Were they supposed to be greeting each other? Helena didn't know.

It was raining. And the Greek royals had just arrived. Everyone stared.

"Greetings, your majesties," Helena plastered a very fake, very toothy shark smile towards her. If only she could bite the bitch's head off.

Queen Anastasia's own smile did not match the chips of Arctic ice that were her green eyes. "Your majesties, your English welcomes never fails to _astound_ me. Is it any wonder that so many people worldwide are drawn to you and your court?"

Translation: 'You're a frigid bitch and it's a miracle you can be slutty enough to get men to want you.'

Helena's smile grew strained. How _dare_ she?! She was the queen of England! Well, not for long. Helena's pride rankled when she remembered that she would be Queen _Mother,_ whereas this woman would be remaining queen and her daughter would be taking Helena's title!

"How very gracious of you, your majesty," Helena fake-simpered. "Though I know we can never compare to _your_ _warm welcomes_ and the warmth of your court. The _masses_ are _enthralled."_

Translation: 'You're a common whore. And a very low one at that.'

Nearby, the ushers and butlers, Rachel, Queen Helena's assistant, Spencer her toyboy and the Lord Chamberlain, either averted her eyes, sensing the catastrophe to come, or cast fearful glances at each other.

"As enthralled as they are towards _you?"_ Queen Anastasia's smile grew dazzling now. That was always a bad sign. Well, it was for Helena. "You are the shining queen of this country, and _they will never forget it."_ Her voice grew dangerously quiet towards the end.

In other words, the paternity scandal, Helena's public affairs and her perceived betrayal of King Simon and numerous other issues would never be forgotten.

"Speaking of which, how has the _highly esteemed_ royal family of Britain been?" Anastasia asked, before Helena could counter with something else. "Including the famed Prince Liam and Princess Eleanor?"

This was an all-too brilliant reminder that the British royals, not just Helena, were suffering a series of scandals and the stigma had not yet lifted- if ever. Simon's murder, Robert's 'accident', the revelations of her affairs, the paternity bombshell Cyrus dropped on everyone's heads which he took advantage of to become king; and the false DNA test results had eroded the trust people had in the British monarchy.

Helena had seen a drop in invitations to royal weddings; Christenings; award ceremonies; international conventions in global warming, fundraising and AIDS awareness; balls, gala dinners, jubilees and so much more. Others were not taking her invitations either.

The only Henstridges people had undisputed faith in were Simon (who was dead) and Robert. Everyone else had a shadow of doubt or tarnished reputations.

Helena's eyes grew icy. "They're very well, of course," she said stiffly. "And they're all excited over the upcoming wedding. A new member of the British royal family." She smirked.

Just as she predicted, the smug smile on Anastasia's face faltered and evaporated like mist. Everybody knew. Queen Anastasia was incredibly attached to her daughter, the whole family considered her their favourite, even the brood of royal relatives and the country.

And as British queen, Princess Aglaia would rarely ever see her family, even for Christmases and Easters.

Anastasia's eyes flashed and narrowed dangerously.

Anastasia said: "I hope we shall enjoy the celebrations," she said almost-wistfully. She stepped closer to Helena. "I am sure the people will be watching, the world-over, waiting to see what kind of a party this will be." She said dangerously, smirking again.

Helena's eyes met hers, ferociously.

 _You_ bitch, Helena's eyes said to Anastasia's very smug ones.

Anastasia just smiled.

She was about to say something, but her husband came forwards.

"My dear, your majesty," he said. His voice was kind, but he had a warning tone within it. "If I may inquire as to the king's whereabouts?"

Just then, Robert appeared through the doorway. "Your majesties," he said. "Welcome to England."

"Thank you, your majesty," his father-in-law-to-be shook his hand. King Konstantinos was the most level-headed and reasonable of the soon-to-be in-laws, but Robert also knew he needed to get on this man's good graces.

Just then, two young men appeared and a young woman. The woman was what captured Robert's gaze… And his heart.

Robert felt his very breath leave him as the whole atmosphere suddenly felt airless. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he was not biased when he said this. People in Greece said she was their Crown Jewel and boasted that she was Helen of Troy reborn and not without reason. Her emerald, almond eyes shone and glowed with a special radiance. She was lovelier than anyone else, so beautiful it made Robert's heart ache.

Her hair shone and glowed with the vitality if polished jet, artfully draped down one side in a cascade like a waterfall. Her skin glowed fresh and radiant. She was more beautiful than was truly fair. Those famous liquid, almond, emerald eyes and rosy hue on her cheeks. She was the most heartbreakingly, devastatingly beautiful person anyone had ever seen and nobody- repeat, nobody- could ever take their eyes off her. Not a single person that saw her did not have their breath stolen from their very lungs and could remember how to breathe. She was so radiant, it seemingly hurt for Robert to look at. Everybody else's jaws dropped and he wondered how they would be able to go without oxygen.

The one person he longed to see above all else.

The only person who could also look at him in that way.

* * *

"No, no, NO!" Eleanor bellowed into her cell. "I told you- I don't want the peach taffeta, it makes me look like a fruit! Hence, the _colour!"_ She slammed her bedroom door impatiently.

A line of dialogue from other end of the line.

Len drummed her fingers impatiently against the table. "Yes, yes, yes- _but-"_ she placed a strong emphasis on the word _but._ "Before you ask any questions, I do NOT want the maroon stockings and shoes, I mean, NO. _THANK YOU."_ She held a hand up as if the other person was present.

"Yea- fine, as long as it's not peach brocade with maroon stockings and heels, then I'm happy!" A pause. "Well I don't know! It's not _my_ wedding, it's my brother's," she said irritably. "Yeah, yeah fine." She said as Liam walked in. "So long as you don't make me look like a hybrid peach-prune, then I'm happy- just _don't make me look like fruit!"_ She shouted at the phone before she ended the conversation.

"Damn," she muttered, sinking into her chair and putting her feet up. "Can you believe this?" She asked Liam.

"What?" He placed his hands on the chair in front of them.

"I'm the _bridesmaid,_ it's not my wedding day, but everybody's acting like it's going to be all eyes on yours truly," she gestured sarcastically.

"It's the bride's day," Liam retorted. "And besides, you _like_ everyone looking at you."

"Not when there's a bunch of horny, heartbroken boys who didn't win the bride's heart." Len remarked.

Liam grew silent. "How did he do it?" He asked.

"What?"

"Robert," he found himself saying. "How did he win her hand in marriage?"

"Obviously, he fell in love, and she felt the same way," Eleanor shrugged.

Liam was silent. The brother he knew now, and the brother he had known in his youth were two very different people, though they could put up a similar façade. Was Robert truly in love with her? He was infatuated. He was obsessed. But was it true love?

Aglaia was the daughter of a king. She was the granddaughter of kings.

And she was, literally, the most beautiful, if not one of the most beautiful women they had ever seen. She had a smile that warmed people from the inside out, whilst dazzling them at the same time.

So how did Robert manage to woo a girl like that? Liam wasn't even aware that he was seeing anybody.

Much less, a princess, another king's daughter.

Aglaia of Greece and Denmark was truly a sight to behold. Lovely beyond comparison, it wasn't just her beauty. But it was one of the reasons. Liam still couldn't get over it. She was much too gorgeous.

A lot of people had literally started drooling when she walked into the room. Their jaws dropped to the ground. She was the most beautiful woman Liam had ever seen (and that was saying something).

And if that wasn't enough, she was utterly magnetic. Completely captivating and charismatic. When she spoke to Liam, or when she was listening to what he had to say, she made him feel like he was the only person in the world that mattered to her. He had never felt that before. No one had ever made him feel like that.

So how did Robert manage to win her hand and heart? Most importantly to Liam, why?

He didn't know. The bonds of family, always so fragile, were being torn again.

"Your highness?" Someone knocked on the door.

"What is it?" Len called out.

"The queen requests your presence. The Queen of Greece and the princess has arrived and they're taking tea."

* * *

"With all due respect," Queen Anastasia said icily. "My daughter will not be wearing a knock-off of a previous bride's outfit."

Helena's stormy blue eyes narrowed. "Hardly," she said through gritted teeth. Aglaia closed her eyes during the dialogue. Len felt sorry for her.

"Just… Inspiration. Not that _many people_ would know, of course." She dared, 'many people'. meaning Anastasia.

"Of course, you could teach them about inspiration," Anastasia snarked. "After all, your new décor in Blenheim Palace has certainly seen some _inspiration._ Was it Vegas?"

Whoa, déjà vu alert. Didn't Duchie, their grandmother say that?

"Or Versailles," Helena gave a strained smile. "But then again, in a land surrounded by ancient architecture, the more modern Baroque and Rococo does seem rather less… _Classical,_ does it not?"

Anastasia simply raised an eyebrow. "Classical? Yes, I'm accustomed to what is classical and stylish, as they hardly go out of style, unlike trends that come in this year and the next. A lot of things go in and back out of style. You'd know about them, of course." She smiled. _You're one of them._

"On the matter of the dress," Aglaia interjected, looking from her mother, to her mother-in-law-to-be. "I think I would like to consider the options before choosing a designer."

"That's a good idea," Len piped up. "Len can help," Liam suggested.

Aglaia smiled at them. Liam's heart skipped a beat and started thumping red into his face.

* * *

"Thank you," Aglaia's emerald eyes gazed bore onto both of them.

Aglaia sighed. "I really wouldn't have known what to do without you," she said to the twins.

"Don't mention it," Len said smiling. "Yeah, our family's… Crazy." Liam admitted.

Aglaia sighed. "That's what my brother said."

They looked at her. "Which one?" Liam asked. "If you don't mind my asking," he said hastily.

"Both, actually," Aglaia confessed, gazing up at them with those emerald eyes, limpid and deep. Liam was struck just by how clear and bright they were.

She sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm not coming here blind, deaf or stupid, but I…" She sighed. "Anyway, I haven't chosen a designer-" she winced. "I'm not too sure about anyone. Would you like to come for the rings? Philippos Manetas is coming over and he's the one who designed the rings."

Liam blinked. "I thought Robert mentioned that someone else was handing over the rings."

"It's a collaboration," Aglaia explained. "Between Manetas and a Welsh jeweller named James Evans-Davies. It's made of Welsh gold, because apparently that's tradition. But… Well, Manetas is highly regarded by our family so…" She hesitated.

Liam felt for her, he truly did. She was stuck in the middle of everyone and everything. Including Robert.

He wondered if she knew that with Robert she wasn't likely to be protected. In fact, who would protect her from the man his brother had become?

Who if not him?

Len blinked. "Sounds neat."

"Sounds expensive," Aglaia laughed softly. "Isn't it dreadful? But his artwork is beautiful, and apparently if your brother's word is to be believed, which I do trust, then the rings will be." She put touched Eleanor's hand. "But it wouldn't be the same if you weren't there." She said gently.

Len could only smile, and Aglaia looked up at Liam.

The moment her green eyes met his- greener than anything he had ever seen- Liam was caught. He melted.

"Of course," he managed. She smiled a heartbreaking smile.

* * *

Unfortunately, Liam realised he wasn't the only prince there. Crown Prince Alexandros-Achileos, more commonly known as Alexios, titled Prince of Sparta, was there as well.

Prince Alexios of Sparta was an extremely handsome guy, chiselled, golden-bronze skin like a surfer, tall, athletic, lean and muscular. He had golden-blond hair like his mother, and stunning malachite-green eyes. But despite his looks, he also had an aura which commanded instant respect. This guy was a battle-hardened soldier from a very early age when other princes were having an easy life. An SAS commander or an American Navy SEAL officer walked the same way as he did, and people instantly parted whenever he walked into a crowd, in the same manner of intimidated awe and respect.

His cold green eyes, cold in a way his sister's eyes never were, harder than even his mother's, looked up as Liam entered the room with Eleanor and Aglaia, the latter arm-in-arm with his twin. A curt nod was all the acknowledgement Alexios ever gave him, and it was more like a jerk of the head.

If this guy was Prince of Sparta, clearly it was for a reason.

But another prince was in the room: Dimitri, Aglaia's second older brother, titled Prince of Thebes.

Helena and Anastasia strode into the room at the same time, sparing icy glances at one another before gliding over to the table, chins high, awaiting the arrival of the Greek sculptor and the Welsh jeweller. Aglaia greeted both her mother and her mother-in-law-to-be.

"Now, I suppose we'll have to wait, Robert did say that he would be late," she said apologetically. "He also said he hopes that it's alright."

Helena's smile looked strained, though she could not help but lower her guard when Aglaia greeted her. Her charm was infectious.

Anastasia nodded simply, smiling a genuine smile for the first time since Liam and Len had seen her. "Of course, _agape mou."_

They took their seats and soon enough, they came in.

First was a dark-haired middle-aged man with a Mediterranean complexion smiling as the princess stood to greet him with the queen. Aglaia warmly but courteously greeted him and the Welsh jeweller, a fair-haired, blue-eyed fellow with a jolly smile.

"The king sends his apologies," Aglaia said apologetically. "But I'm afraid he's a little held up with his work. I hope you don't mind," she said sincerely.

"Oh no, not at all," the two of them chorused, before giving each other creeped-out looks.

"But," Manetas said. "Here are the rings." He gestured to a box and the two opened the lid with a flourish.

Everyone either gasped or made impressed noises. The rings were…

The finest threads of white, yellow, and rose gold in two perfectly-shaped, lovely patterned circles. The metallic threads shimmered, capturing and reflecting light as if stars were caught within the strands of metal. It was beautiful. They were both beautiful.

Queen Anastasia looked impressed, for the first time since she set foot in the country, as she turned sparkling eyes towards the two men. "They're outstanding," Helena complimented.

Alexios' eyebrow rose. "Yes, I must say I'm impressed," he said speaking for the first time since Liam had first seen him. "You know how to make a great team." For a moment, it looked as if his eyes flickered over to the rest of them.

"Yes," That was Prince Dimitri. Helena turned and had a good look at him for the first time.

He was beautiful as well, though his sister shone so brightly it was seemingly impossible to get over her mere presence. Helena could not help but stare. He had features that were between beautiful in a feminine fashion and outright handsome in a masculine way; smooth fair skin with a hint of a bronzed honey tan, obviously Mediterranean; straight, fine Grecian profile; chiselled cheekbones and mouth. His eyes were liquid, very deep and clear and like jade, not quite the emerald of his sister's. It was a stark contrast to his dark, smooth hair that Helena, admittedly, found it tempting to run her fingers through. He had looks that could capture and enchant all the same.

Then she remembered, that this was the son of the golden-haired bitch from hell. No way, Jose.

Better a horse than this fellow.

"I must admit they are indeed impressive," he said, smiling in a way that did _not_ make Helena trust him. "Where do you get your ideas?"

"Well," the Welsh jeweller, James, hesitated.

"We discussed this beforehand with His Majesty, the king of Britain." Manetas helpfully explained.

"Yes," Robert strode into the room. "That's true." Everyone stood to greet him and the two men bowed.

"Please," Robert held out his hand. He gestured for them to retake their seats, greeted his mother, sister, mother-in-law and kissed his fiancée.

"My apologies for being late. This was something I thought of with the help of Mr. Manetas and Mr. Evans-Davies," Robert said pleasantly.

"And they're both beautiful," Aglaia said softly, her eyes meeting his. Robert's eyes softened and he broke into a genuine, dazzling smile.

"I'm glad to hear it," he murmured. He kissed her hand, eyes still fixed on hers. Liam noticed the engagement ring glittering on her finger.

Did Robert love her because of her beauty? She was the most beautiful woman Liam had ever seen, and he was sure Robert thought the same way.

Or was it because she was a king's daughter and the king of Denmark's niece?

Disturbed, Liam glanced at his mother.

"The design was Robert's idea," Aglaia said out of the blue.

The two mothers were perfectly motionless. "You… Designed them?" Helena managed. "When on earth did you do that?"

"Before we were even married," Aglaia said dryly, casting a glance at her husband-to-be.

He laughed softly. Liam stole a glance at Queen Anastasia. The woman appeared far from pleased. In fact, she had a dark, stormy look in her green eyes and an expression which Liam did not like.

Not that he could blame her though. He had started when he heard that.

 _I think we might've underestimated just how much they did not want her to marry into our family,_ Liam reflected. Granted, they had nothing against Robert. They were courteous and if they were hostile, their only reasons for being so towards him was because he was taking their daughter away. But while the king seemed polite and reasonable to all, the two princes and the queen either pointedly ignored the twins and their mother fought with Helena at every turn.

Queen Anastasia was not pleased that Robert- and Aglaia, most likely- had decided upon this marriage beforehand.

Helena also did not look pleased. The idea that her own son was already planning to replace her… "Really?" She managed. The couple-to-be cast a glance towards her. "When?"

"Just after our engagement," Robert replied. He turned back to the jeweller.

But judging by the darkened look in Queen Anastasia's eyes, she was more than deeply unhappy about this revelation.

"Well, the Abbey has been booked for the official occasion?" She inquired, trying to distract herself from her anger.

"Of course," Helena scoffed. "We hardly want anyone to show up on the _wrong day,_ now, do we? Might be a tad bit embarrassing." She smirked. _Especially if you are the mother of the bride_. Those words were unspoken.

Anastasia smiled like poison honey. "Oh, I'm sure," she purred. "But then again, I think we should worry more about interruptions. After all, isn't it _embarrassing_ when somebody barges in on an official ceremony, just when a _massively important vow_ is being said in full view of the _world press_ and _foreign dignitaries_ and _royals?"_

Helena froze. _Ouch._ That was a hit. There was a nasty smile on her counterpart's features. She was referring to the time when Cyrus barged in just as Liam was about to swear the oath of office, and dropped the paternity bombshell.

Then her eyes flashed with fire and narrowed dangerously.

"Mother," Aglaia said hastily. "Please." Robert was now deep in discussion with the jeweller and sculptor, and did not appear to have noticed the two queens' hostile dialogue.

"I am sure," Helena began dangerously. "That the world press would find that _very_ entertaining indeed. Just as they would find it entertaining if a security breach occurred during the wedding." Aglaia and Len stifled groans. "Imagine, for instance; someone slipping and bashing their _head_ on the abbey steps, particularly if it was _someone important._ Perhaps we should focus more on security? I daresay, the world will be traumatised, just looking at the headlines. And you know how concerned I am, as we are _all_ about to become family."

The corner of Anastasia's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Yes," she stated, as if tasting something foul. That was a hit to her, who was attached to her daughter. "I agree. After all, how many enemies does one make? Especially when breaches and infiltrations are possible? And people turn up _missing_ all the time. I was so sorry to hear about two of your staff," she gave her a look of false sympathy. "I can't imagine what happened to those poor two maids. Imagine, a lifetime of loyal service, and what a way _fate_ has repaid them!" Everyone cringed terribly.

"I think we should move on to the tableware, don't you?" Aglaia interrupted, desperate. Helena had caught on the hints towards Prudence and Violet and was turning dangerously still again.

 _"I sincerely hope you enjoy the show,"_ Helena said through gritted teeth. They stood, rings nearly forgotten. "The pre-wedding concert is on tomorrow night. You always did love a good show." She nearly sneered.

"Not as much as you, Queen Helena, I'm sure you'll enjoy this one _even more,"_ Anastasia said with a brilliant smile. Helena flushed a dark crimson, something Liam never imagined his mother would be capable of doing. Aglaia looked distressed, but she braved it all. Liam admired her all the more for that.

"I've just spoken with the jeweller- and Mr. Manetas," Robert reappeared. "I also have a surprise for you," he said to Aglaia. She looked mystified. "What more can you give me?" She sounded incredulous. She shook her head, her eyes gentle.

 _Oh,_ Aglaia. Len felt strangely protective of her. _You don't know this family._ She was most likely the purest thing to ever set foot within these walls, rivalling even her father and Sarah Alice. She knew Aglaia was one of the most educated and experienced people, but she just knew that the bride was walking into a trap. She seemed so innocent, and so naïve that Eleanor just cringed at the idea of her living the life in the circus show that was their family.

So did Liam. And he couldn't bear to imagine what her new life would be with Robert.

Even Robbie, the best of them, along with their dad, would shower her with countless gifts.

He smirked. "Just wait." He kissed her, with a bit more passion than was appropriate. Their mothers stiffened but Aglaia continued the kiss. Dimitri rolled his eyes. Liam did not see. "Now about that promise..." He whispered in her ear.

* * *

"How did you think Robert fell in love with her?" Liam asked.

Helena shrugged. "Does it matter?" She sounded less sour, but the mood still lingered above their heads.

"No, but it's just..." Liam struggled to find the words. "We've never interacted with the Greek royals before-"

"I can't imagine why," Helena said with an uncharacteristically inelegant snort. "So how come he's met her? And he wants to marry her?" He looked at her. "And how come she loves him?"

"Does it truly matter?" His mother repeated. "As much as I have misgivings about the mother, it's a good, strong alliance. Brings us closer to the Greek and Danish royal families."

"Danish?" Len asked from the other side of the room. "Before Her Snobbish Majesty Queen Bitch-Face married the future king of Greece, she was a princess of Denmark. Her name was Ingrid." She scoffed. "Then she got married, her husband became king, and essentially, she never ceases to remind me that one, she's risen to the position of my equal even when I wasn't expecting it, and two, she's given birth to a gorgeous, remarkably talented brood and now one of them is going to be taking my place as queen." She looked sour again. "But at least Robert will have international support from Greece and Denmark and their considerable international and European influence. Even with Brexit." Len frowned. She was about to say something, but Liam interrupted her.

Liam did not look happy. "So you think that's the only reason he's marrying her?" He sounded upset. "Because it's _convenient_ for him?"

Helena shrugged. "What does it matter why he's marrying her? It's a good match, and as much as I hate her brood-sow- well, _mother-_ she's perfect. She's beyond perfect, she just needs to have her teeth sharpened for this role. I don't think she knows just how many throats she's going to tear as queen in this madhouse." She drained the last of her whiskey.

"A marriage can build, maintain or destroy a kingdom," Helena stated. "That's how it works. That's how it's always been and that's how it always will be. Robert needs to be strong and to make good connections, to give support to us from the international community, because God knows-" she scowled. "Pryce and Cyrus destroyed it with the paternity bombshell and your father's death. Now as far as the world's concerned, I'm the heartless whore, and Anastasia's the loving and devoted wife." She poured herself another drink.

Liam and Eleanor looked with pity at their mother who looked downright miserable. But Liam's mind was running. If Aglaia didn't know, if she truly didn't know...

Robert could be charming. He knew that with Kathryn. And now she was next.

Without a word, Liam stood and strode out of the room.

* * *

The wedding was on.

Huge truckloads of flowers were brought for the occasion, garlands and wreaths, table centrepieces, posies and (of course), the bride's bouquet. The royals' florist and her assistants worked tirelessly to make the perfect wedding decorations fit for a king's wedding. Cake samples were tasted, opinions given, designs chosen, menu and catering were planned, the staff brought countless ingredients for the occasion and were discussing the menu with Queen Helena, her lord chamberlain and Princess Eleanor, along with the bride and groom.

And this was where the bride's mother displayed her battle standards, and brandished all her firepower at her old rival. So did Helena.

Oh, Queen Helena _certainly_ fought back. The two queens of the Hellenic Kingdom of Greece and the United Kingdom of Great Britain, fought fire with fire; with thunder and lightning; brimstone and hailstorms. It was quite clear, to everyone involved in the wedding preparations (including the bride and groom), that Queen Anastasia disagreed with her daughter's choice, not because of her husband-to-be, but because of his family and their less-than-sparkling reputation- the corruption, debauchery and danger involved with the Henstridges. And most of all, the mother-in-law. And then it became increasingly apparent that Queen Anastasia was _very_ much attached to and protective of her daughter, and wasn't just fearful and mistrustful of the security people, the staff, the government and everyone to do with her soon-to-be in-laws (including said in-laws). She didn't want to let her daughter go.

Seating arrangements were planned meticulously. The groom's and the bride's mothers made barbed-wire remarks. Cake designs were presented. The two queens tried to scratch each other's eyes out. Catering staff were brought forth. The two threatened to drown one another with champagne or hint 'subtly' at _accidents_ when stepping out onto the steps from carriages.

It distressed the bride. Truly it did. Robert put up a brave face, and acted like nothing terrible was happening, but eternally-patient Aglaia had tried- and failed to calm everyone's ire. But in truth she was near to tears from the outright hostility and hatred everyone was projecting at one another.

* * *

"That arrogant _bitch,"_ Queen Helena fumed. "Daring to say that no daughter of hers is _worthy_ enough for our family." She paced up and down the room, the twins standing like soldiers about to be given suicide missions.

"Well, we'll just _have_ to show her," she kept fuming. "Show her- and the rest of the world, including all those long-nosed relatives of hers, that it is an _honour_ and a _privilege_ to be marrying into the Henstridge family."

"An honour that's actually suicide," Len dryly pointed out. "You do know that marrying a Henstridge equals certain death in recent experience?"

Besides, Queen Anastasia had never _specifically_ stated that marrying into the Henstridge family would be a step-down for Aglaia.

"And according to Queen Anastasia," Spencer, the Lord Chamberlain added. "It's a bit like tossing her infant to an active minefield, waiting to see where she lands."

Helena stared at him. The twins turned towards him. "Wait- she said that?" Liam asked, bewildered. Spencer looked sheepish. "It's what I overheard, sir."

"Wait- who was she discussing all this with?" Eleanor asked.

"Other royal acquaintances, if anything I've heard is any indication," Spencer confessed. "It's hard to understand everything she was saying. The queen of Greece, continuously switches between Greek, Danish, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Swedish, Norwegian, Faroese and Dutch. Based on what I've heard the princess is also very fluent in these languages and more."

 _"F.M.L."_ Helena bit out.

"FML," Eleanor muttered in agreement. "So, where's the happy couple?"

"Out for a walk, your royal highness."

* * *

In the lushly wooded park, the new king of England, Robert was showing his bride-to-be around.

The next queen of England cast her famously legendary green eyes with those absurd lashes, around the place.

"It's not like Greece," Robert said teasingly.

"But it feels like home," she looked at him. "It's beautiful." Robert smiled a genuine dazzling smile, feeling happier than he had been for months.

Robert stepped closer to her. "Now, why can't we go somewhere and-""If you're suggesting we find someplace to elope to," Aglaia said with amusement. "Before the pre-arranged ceremony-""Gretna Green," Robert grinned. "British version of Vegas."

Aglaia laughed. It was a beautiful musical laugh that people often swore charmed birds into dancing in the breeze and made the hard-hearted smile without meaning to.

"At a blacksmith's shop," she said with amusement. "And an anvil priest." She had heard about it.

Gretna Green was where couples traditionally used to elope to, hiding and marrying inside a blacksmith's workshop, officiated by the smith.

"Yeah," he leaned forwards putting his head closer. "Because once this is all done, we're never going to find time for ourselves." He kissed her.

"And how do you think our florists will react?" She murmured, leaning forwards into his warm, hard body. "The ones who prepared the commemorative tea towels, the mugs-" she made a face. "Seriously, I don't want to see my face on a mug every morning, is there any way we can get rid of those?"

Robert smirked. "Just say the word, and I'll get a kiss in return." He kissed her again. "Maybe more.

"No security guards, no intruders, no battling family and in-laws." _Just us._ He deepened the kiss, and pressed his bride against a tree, grabbing her leg, and putting lifting it around him, then taking hold of both her hands, clasped behind his back and pressing it to his front, letting her feel his hard, ridged torso with their breathing increasingly laboured and-

"Your majesty!" Came the call. Aglaia blushed and Robert irritably pulled away. "I'm sorry to disturb your majesty," one of the aides panted, having just arrived. "But the Prime Minister-"

 _What does he want_ now? Robert thought, more than a little irritated and disappointed. "Very well," he said masking his emotions. "Tell him I will be there momentarily. Thank you."

He sighed turning back to Aglaia. "It was too good to be true, to think that I'll have some time alone with you."

"You're the king," Aglaia said softly. "I know what it's like."

Robert looked both disappointed and pained but he mischievously whispered something in her ear.

"Please say yes," he begged, as he walked backwards. "I love you," he said, before he cast one last wistful look, turning around and walking back in the direction of the palace.

* * *

"They did _WHAT?!"_ Helena snapped. Her stormy grey-blue eyes glared at Rachel.

Rachel replied. "They sent back the invitations." Helena glared again and stood up from behind her desk.

"So am I to understand," she said dangerously. "That the heads of the various royal houses throughout the world, will _not_ be attending my son, the king's wedding celebrations?"

"Well, actually," Rachel said meekly. "They _are_ coming. The Queen of Greece sent invitations inviting them to their daughter's nuptials. They have responded: they're all coming."

Helena looked murderous.

Both Rachel and Spencer were deathly silent. She knew what this meant. Since she was the one sending the invitations…

 _They dared snub me?!_ Helena raged. Me? _The Queen of England?_ Well, Queen _Mother._ She hated the fact that somebody was taking her place.

And that soon she would be relegated to royal mother, and mother-in-law. Or maybe even grandma. She shuddered.

* * *

 _A man watched in a van, nearby._

 _The huge truckloads of flowers were being carted in, but not in the masses. The queens of Greece and Britain wanted to see examples of the flowers first, and their arrangements before being chosen as the decorations for the venue. According to his sources, the bride was mostly trying to keep the peace between her mother and her groom's mother._

 _A perfect opportuntiy to strike._

 _Yes, for it needed to be done. They had taken something from him. Something priceless._

 _One way or another, this wedding would not go on ahead. And if somebody had to die to fulfil it, then they will._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : I don't own The Royals. No need to sue.**

* * *

 **Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.**

Penelope and Maribel Henstridge strode into the room, blinking dopey eyes at the surrounding chandeliers.

Penelope sniffed. "What is that? Smells like Dad."

"That, my dear cousins, is the residue of two-hundred pounds of whiskey, champagne, caviar and cognac," Eleanor declared dramatically as she strode into the room arms opened wide. The two red-haired sisters squealed and planted air-kisses on her cheeks.

"And that," Eleanor gestured dramatically. "Is the _Font of my Love_. A fountain by the Greek sculptor Manetas, who loaned it to us for the wedding. It's never been in Britain before."

The two sisters gasped and for once, they weren't being dopey.

The delicate, exquisite fountain had three gold catch basins. The rim of each bowl was framed in intricate rosebuds and vines. Helen and Paris; Pyramus and Thisbe; Orpheus and Eurydice; Eros and Psyche; Leander and Hero; Romeo and Juliet; Antony and Cleopatra; numerous lovers were etched in delicate, yet gorgeous engravings at the bowls, from Greek mythology and Shakespeare each with a blooming rose in the middle. The top was a nude sculpture of Aphrodite with baby Cupid/Eros, holding a rose.

"It's a champagne fountain," Len piped up. Though it looked more like a miniature garden fountain. "Tell that to your dad. You know how much he loves to guzzle. It's adorable, like a drunken baby."

"And I'm sure the sight of lovers will make Cyrus more miserable," Helena muttered, coming from the other end of the hall.

She gasped when she saw the fountain. "Oh, it's beautiful," she immediately gushed. "Lovelier than I could've imagined," Helena crooned.

And it truly was. Len had been awed when she saw it. Aglaia was right: Manetas truly was a genius.

"I absolutely love it," Helena declared. "Where shall we put it?"

Everyone shrugged.

" _Ooh,_ by the bar… Dad's going to be at the bar, then he could just… _Right."_ Penelope nodded, absorbing the realisation of her implication. Maribel nodded along with her.

"It's wonderful, isn't it, your majesty, your highnesses," Spencer asked happily. "Absolutely lovely. It's certainly the most beautiful fountain I've ever seen."

"Hmm," Eleanor agreed. She glanced at her mother. "Is it like, ours?" Maribel asked, eagerly. "Can we like, use it?"

"Yeah," Penelope pointed out. "I'd like to-"

Len shook her head before Penelope could get any disturbing ideas. "No, it's a rented thing," Helena sighed wistfully, and so did Len and Spencer. "It's been used for the Austrian Imperial wedding and after this, the princely couple's wedding in Monaco. There's talk that the Japanese imperial family and the Swedes also wish to borrow it. But you have to pay an arm and a leg for that thing- and a royal one too." She frowned. "But it's never been on display in Britain before. And now aristocrats and billionaires want to have a piece of this."

"Can't say I blame them," Len beamed. "So… Where to put it?"

"At the gourmet dessert bar," Queen Anastasia appeared through the doorway, flanked by her own security, aides and assistants. She gave Helena a perfunctory glance. "These must be your nieces."

Penelope and Maribel were pale-skinned, and thanks to the recent botch-up in Maribel's plastic surgery, she had gone back to being her original red-haired, curvy, pale state. They were dressed as wackily as always, in a blue sailor mini-dress with a black bolero and bright pink lace-up boots, fishnets and gauzy hat. Maribel also wore fishnets, but she had gone for a hot pink A-line dress with black hearts (wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?) and a pale pink, puff ball bolero and matching lace-up boots.

Anastasia cast her barely-concealed amusement over them, before turning those cold green eyes towards Helena. Helena's eyes were dangerously narrowed. She would take those two dopey nieces of hers over this woman any time.

"The fountain will be a wonderful addition to the gourmet dessert bar," the Greek queen said, matter-of-factly. "Really?" Helena said. "I was under the impression that it would look wonderful surrounded by the crystal glasses."

Anastasia tilted her head to one side. "Truly?"

"Yes, after all, children will be going to the dessert bar as well, and no doubt they would be tempted by the fountain. We can't have them guzzling alcohol like breast milk." She challenged.

Eleanor suppressed a groan. Spencer winced. He knew where this was heading.

Anastasia's eyes narrowed. She had a point, but it was obvious that neither queen would yield to the other.

"The fountain can be moved," she said dangerously. "Once the champagne has been finished and emptied out. Mr. Manetas has given us his permission- not that he needed to- to fill it with sparkling strawberry soda. Children enjoy that. You, the mother of _three_ grown children, surely remember what they like at such a young age," she drawled.

"Maybe," Helena said boldly. "But when one goes for a drink, the first place they will go to are the glasses. And how convenient will it not be if the champagne fountain is far away?"

"A few steps is not far away, it is less than a metre from the dessert bar to the glasses, as all those who have actually decided to use their legs can testify."

Helena's smile was fake. "Oh, I'm sure. And those who are weary after a hard day's work will enjoy the fountain where it is."

"But then the children won't enjoy it," Anastasia said sweetly. "After all, we have a number coming to the wedding, don't we? The junior bridesmaids and pageboys. They'll be thirsty after a long day in the cathedral and the carriage rides. I think we should allow them a drink first."

Helena furiously opened her mouth but before she could say anything Aglaia came into the room.

"Oh my." She gasped. "Is that-"

"The fountain!" Len gushed, grateful for the change in subject. Aglaia breathed in awe. It was beautiful. So delicately engraved and exquisitely moulded, even the mere figure of Aphrodite was beautiful, more beautiful than the statues Aglaia had seen- and she had seen a lot. The roses engraved in the basins within each scene of legendary lovers, appeared so realistic as they bloomed and the tiny framework of vines and rosebuds was just so delicate and fine. Eros and his mother held a single rose from where the champagne would be poured.

"It's like nothing I've ever seen," she breathed. She reached out a finger, then hesitated, as if not wishing to disturb the scenes. "And all for you, my love." Robert's voice appeared out of nowhere. His arms around Aglaia's waist.

"What?" Aglaia blinked.

"You told me you were a fan of Manetas' artwork, then someone suggested to me what he'd done for the Austrian Imperial wedding and what he was planning to do for the upcoming nuptials of the prince in Monaco. So, I thought that for _our_ wedding I would like to give _you_ a surprise."

"Wait," Len interrupted. "So… You didn't know about this?"

Aglaia turned wide eyes to Eleanor and shook her head. "No," she whispered. She looked back at Robbie who was smiling at her. Her eyes were shining. "Really?"

He kissed her. A flicker of displeasure crossed Queen Anastasia's face, but Eleanor thought she might've imagined it. Helena didn't look pleased either.

"Anything for _you,"_ he whispered. "Not yet queen, but most certainly, undisputed Queen of my Heart."

Now, a sour look most certainly appeared on Helena's face but she shoved it away. Then something worse than sourness appeared on her stunning features and she turned away.

 _I know he loves her,_ she thought. _I hoped he would find love. But I didn't expect him to love her this much._

Why did it hurt?

"So where shall we put it?" Robert asked Aglaia, still smiling as he broke away.

Anastasia and Helena threw furious glares at one another, both instantly opening their mouths to say something.

"The dessert bar," her mother said. "Where the dessert crystal-ware shall go," his mother said immediately, at the same time.

They stared. Eleanor face-palmed.

Aglaia was at a loss for words. Both Helena and Anastasia were fixing her with their glances, each shoving her with their mere eyes to follow their choice.

"Um," she hesitated. Robert's brow furrowed. This was worse than he thought.

"Are you sure… Because if this is a champagne fountain, the dessert bar will be filled with children-" she stopped at the sight of her mum's furious gaze. Helena gave a smirk that was so wide it threatened to eclipse the entire room.

"But then again," she hastily continued. "We could easily fill it with juice or sparkling soda, so that the children would be more than happy to enjoy it."

Now it was Helena's turn. She looked so stormy-furious that Anastasia was the one who smiled, more pleased at her rival's reaction than anything.

"Still, it _is_ a _champagne_ fountain," Aglaia tried to pacify both women. "It would be silly to have it used only for soda. And it is quite convenient if-"

"Um," Len interrupted. "Why not the drinks bar?"

"And put the bartender out of business?" Robert shook his head. "Distracting his customers? Matt won't be pleased." He knew the bartender well.

"Why not bring it next to the wedding cake?" Aglaia asked.

"But that would take the attention from the cake itself," Helena remarked. She threw Anastasia a filthy glance.

"True enough," the Greek queen scoffed. "But once the cake has been cut, could we not wheel it in?"

"Or else we could go to another part of the hall," Aglaia stood straighter as if she had a flash of inspiration. "Once we've cut the cake. On a table, similar to the one where we placed the wedding cake… Surrounded by flowers, like roses."

"That," Robert began. "Is a great idea." He kissed his bride-to-be again. "Bring them a surprise." He looked at the queens. "I think I would like to go for my fiancée's idea." There was a pointed insistence in his voice and the message was clear: _enough is enough._

"I agree," Len instantly piped up, in defence of her sister-in-law-to-be and her brother.

The two queens turned narrowed eyes towards one another and their mutual messages were clear: _This is not over._

Helena went to supervise something else, Anastasia did the same. Though they purposely avoided one another, everyone just knew they would somehow end up in each other's paths once again, for the mere sake of sabotaging the other's plans and directions.

Robert sighed. "Well, that could've gone better, but also much worse." He and his bride-to-be smiled at each other. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching up to kiss him. "I can't believe you did that for me."

"I love you," she whispered, gazing at him in the eyes. Eleanor saw Robert's eyes take on a look she had never seen before. He was truly shining with love, and totally moved. He wanted only her. She saw that completely.

Len turned back to the fountain, placing both arms around her cousins.

"Brings in mind, romance, doesn't it?" Eleanor sighed wistfully. Her eyes flicked to Jasper who was talking with the head of security. He gave her a smile.

She smiled in return. _Talk about a date,_ she thought.

Everyone bustled about, bringing huge garlands, festoons and vases of flowers. The mother of the bride and the mother of the groom had already had a huge, spectacular fight about what types of flowers would be on display. The headache that the bride received was as such that she was excused for wedding planning for the whole day, until the designers came.

She wasn't going to let either of them choose her gown or veil for her. That went over the line.

But she was going to let Eleanor come with her.

And Len felt touched, truly. She hadn't had a sister before. Until now.

Eleanor felt like she was in a haze of optimism. She had love, her brother found love, and she had a sister.

So, this meant that everything was going alright, right?

She was _so_ totally wrong.

* * *

"The countdown to the royal wedding begins, in less than two months, Princess Aglaia of Greece will wed King Robert in what is reported to be the Wedding of the Century." The presenter announced proudly.

A montage appeared on screen, with Union and Greek flags, excited people, champagne glasses, memorabilia, the cathedral and finally, a photograph of the royal couple and letters in cursive.

An American presenter's voice sounded.

"The countdown begins soon, something we have waited since last year, equal parts fairy-tale, royal pageant and love story for the whole world. Security is tight, expectations are high, and here is a special edition of 'The Royal Wedding' live from London, England."

"Good morning, it is three in the evening in London, and just two weeks away from the royal wedding, dubbed the Wedding of the Century, and the streets are draped in bunting, Union flags, and people are planning parties here in DC."

Liam took no notice of the news.

He paced his room, heading… He didn't know where he was headed.

The thought struck him then and there.

 _He did not know where he was headed._

* * *

Robert and his bride-to-be were finding some time for themselves. Apparently now, Aglaia was feeding Robert strawberries dipped in milk chocolate and sprinkled with crushed honeycomb, and figs stuffed with cream and drizzled with honey and apple cider. With her own hand. She was saying something and Robert was laughing at what she said, his eyes fixed solely on her. Aglaia was smiling.

Liam watched through his own balcony. He could see Robert, his head on her lap, on the sofa. Aglaia stroked his hair gently. He felt a stirring… He didn't know what it was.

Uneasiness? That she had absolutely no idea, this pure, innocent girl, the only truly pure woman Liam had ever met in his life, who had no idea that the man she was marrying might not be what he appeared to be, the brother Liam had always known?

Or something else…

Aglaia was kind, there was no doubt about that. She had more compassion in her little finger than what most people had in their whole bodies, Liam was sure.

She was gentle. She was genuine and she was _good_. She never thought about herself, and that struck Liam as being the most astounding thing he had ever seen. He had always operated under the belief that his father was the same way, and once Robert was, but seeing someone who so believed it through and through…

 _He doesn't deserve her,_ he thought to himself. _Robert doesn't deserve her. She deserves better…_

 _Like who?_ A voice mocked.

That thought made Liam pause and bite his tongue.

Then something happened. As Aglaia ate a strawberry herself, a scream resounded through the air. Liam nearly jumped out of his skin and the royal couple started, Robert darting to his feet.

"HELP! HELP!"

In a single instant, both brothers rushed from where they were, Robert shouting at his fiancée to stay where she was.

"Robert!" Aglaia cried, rushing after him instead.

The brothers barged into the hallway, to find…

"Oh my gosh," Len whispered, appearing out of nowhere, held back by Jasper's arm as she saw the scene ahead of her.

Someone was choking. A security guard by the looks of him, Greek, turning puce and making gagging, choking sounds, convulsing wildly.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Robert ordered. He knelt beside the man.

Just then the heir to the Greek throne burst out of nowhere and his eyes bugged when he saw the bodyguard on the ground. He fell to his knees and proceeded to give him CPR.

"Oh my gosh," Aglaia whispered, coming across the scene.

"Laia, stay back," Robert warned. She gave him an _are-you-kidding-me_ look.

"How did this happen?"

One of the palace maids was shaking. "Your- your highness, I just-" she was shaking uncontrollably. Just then Robert and Liam spotted the champagne glass beside him, the drink spilling onto the carpeted floor.

Liam's stomach turned cold and threatened to nearly flip onto itself.

Robert's head shot up. "Who gave him that drink?"

Aglaia was by now, comforting the maid who was sobbing and shaking. There was a tray by her feet, and broken shards of glass and champagne.

It was her. Aglaia shook her head at Robert. Not now. Obviously, the girl was in shock.

* * *

"His condition has been stabilised," the doctor announced.

Aglaia breathed a sigh of relief. Almost everyone exhaled. Robert's hand was tight around his fiancée.

"How did this happen?" He questioned, his voice full of quiet, regal authority.

"We are currently conducting a blood test to be sure," the doctor began hesitantly. "But based on the description of the initial reaction, and an analysis of the current symptoms, we believe it may be poisoning."

Alexios stepped forwards. "One of my men was attacked, I have no doubt this was not accidental, nor an allergic reaction," he said coldly, narrowing his stunningly-cold malachite eyes towards the doctor. "Now I would like to know what kind of poison was used on him before finding out who would do this to one of our loyal officers."

The doctor hesitated. "We have yet to be certain, but it is our belief that the poison used was oleander."

"What's that?" Liam asked.

"A flower," Aglaia muttered.

Aglaia shook her head. "No one is stupid enough to use oleander for any sort of ingredient so it's certainly not accidental. But there's no way oleanders grow in Britain." She looked baffled. "They're native to North Africa, found from the Mediterranean eastwards and other warmer countries, like some states in the US."

"No, but the occasional botanical societies do attempt to cultivate different plants from around the world… Not that I am accusing anyone," he blustered. "It would do no good for a poor, bereaved, but highly-skilled doctor to assume things that could lead to lawsuit cases and-"

"Yes, we understand, doctor," Robbie said hastily. He sighed.

"Why would anyone go to the trouble of bringing in poison from a plant that grows in a faraway country?" Liam asked, bewildered.

"Because the oleander is a lovely flower," Aglaia stated. She looked at him. "An ornamental one, used for gardens. In some countries, such as Australia and New Zealand, they have very tough bio-security laws that prohibit passengers on aircraft and ships from bringing in fruit and other plant material into the country, as they could bring fungi, pests and diseases that could threaten the population _and_ the environment. But Britain doesn't have these laws, do they?" She looked at Robert.

"No," he agreed. "We don't."

He looked at his fiancée's brother. "Makes it easy for them to smuggle it in."

"Disguised as a flower," Aglaia murmured. "A pretty, ornamental thing, maybe pressed, or a fresh, potted plant."

Liam, Len, Jasper and even the doctor started because they had not suspected she was smart, to be frank.

Jasper went closer. "Your majesties, I may have an answer to that," he suggested. Robert raised an eyebrow.

"With your permission, your majesty, I would like for us to review the number of wedding gifts that have been brought in here, and that includes potted plants." He continued.

Aglaia started. "But we've received countless wedding gifts from around the globe," she shook her head. "We can't even remember the exact number, they just keep coming in, and not just from heads-of-state. There's a village in Wales that sent us a huge quilt, one patch stitched by every household."

Liam and Len looked astonished. So did Jasper.

"And besides," Robert spoke up. "There is a chance that while someone might've smuggled it into the palace, they could've gotten rid of the evidence by now."

"What I don't understand is why anyone would target Arsenios," Aglaia said. Jasper choked and Liam stifled a sound. _Arsenios?_ What kind of name is that for someone who had been poisoned? How ironic was that (no offence meant)?

"He's been with us for years, we trust him, but he's not the most important member of security," she explained. "Why would anybody target him?"

Robert went very still. "That champagne," he said slowly. "We need to speak with the maid."

The girl was sobbing. "I didn't know! I was told to bring it by the kitchen staff up to the king and queen- sorry, princess- but there was more than one glass, and I knew the princess would often order refreshments like drinks to whoever was standing by, so-" she burst into sobs.

"It's alright," Jasper reassured her. "Shush, it's not your fault." He put an arm around her.

Robert, Aglaia, Eleanor, Liam and Prince Alexios watched from behind the glass of the two-way mirror. Alexios' lips were tight and his jaw was clenched.

Aglaia breathed in shock. Len turned a white face towards her brother and his bride.

"Someone tried to kill us," Aglaia's eyes were wide as she looked at her soon-to-be-husband.

Robert's eyes darkened and he pulled her in tight.

Alexios swore in Greek. "We're going to have to heighten security," he warned. "And scan those presents- all of them. We should take no chances."

"Alexios," Aglaia began.

He shook his head, looking saddened as he gazed at his sister. "We'll have to inform the whole family. But keep a tight lid on things."

"I agree, your highness," James Hill- who was standing nearby spoke. "I believe we should keep a firm hold on this, in case things turn to wildfire."

Alexios' malachite gaze was fixed on his sister's.

Aglaia nodded, reluctantly.

"There's no need to stop wedding preparations," he said, albeit unwillingly.

Aglaia shook her head. "Arsenios was a good, loyal man," she whispered. "I can't believe he got poisoned- it might've been for me-"

"No," both fiancé and brother spoke at once. "Absolutely not."

"In any case," Robert said quietly. "That poison was most likely meant for me." His dark blue gaze met Alexios' one.

Alexios was silent, but he absorbed all this. Robert, it appeared, had the decency to admit it, unlike most of his family. Whether this was his fault- it wasn't, of course- he could admit that. For that alone, Alexios gave him his grudging respect. But would it be enough to keep his sister safe?

Aglaia shook, then steeled herself. "It appears that there will always be fanatics and single-handedly obsessed killers in this world." She muttered in disgust. Then she strode away, looking sadly at Robbie.

* * *

"What?!" Helena demanded.

Just then Queen Anastasia burst in. "What is this?" She raged. "I thought security would be sufficient."

"And it appears the family found out," Robert muttered. He turned to face them.

Aglaia sighed. "Mother, the victim was Arsenios-" _"WHAT?!"_ "But the poison was most likely meant for us. We've tested the remaining liquid that spilled onto the carpet. They weren't poisoned. So only one of us was targeted."

"I see," King Konstantinos appeared. Everyone straightened at his arrival. Robbie was still close to Laia.

"I've just heard." Aglaia's father looked grim. "Arsenios was a good man. To think that someone could've…" His expression darkened.

"Have you questioned the staff?" Helena demanded.

"We did," Robert assured her. "But they have sound alibis. And we've scanned all the plants in this palace and the gardens, and none of them remotely resemble an oleander flower."

"Still," Dimitri said. "Oleander?" He had appeared from behind their father. The Prince of Thebes shook his head in disgust. "Hemlock, arsenic, why go for oleander? Someone doesn't appear to be trying hard to kill you."

"Or maybe they just wanted to find a covert way of killing either of us," she glanced at Robert. "But we haven't found any oleander," Alexios pointed out.

"None yet," Robert said, grimly. They had yet to finish checking private rooms.

Helena shook her head. "Cyrus." She cursed.

Robert sighed in exasperation. "Come off it, Mum-"

"No," she stood.

"Somebody called my name?" Speak of the devil. "What is it? Have you stumbled upon some long-forgotten law that prohibits marriage to a princess and decided to abdicate in favour of your love, passing on the throne to your dearly-bereaved uncle?" Cyrus asked.

"His brother is next in line," Alexios pointed out icily. "And no." Dimitri added.

"Right." Cyrus sounded disgusted.

"Cyrus!" Helena bellowed, causing nearly everyone to jump at her. "What the hell- was this your doing?"

"What the hell is it this time?" He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess: brandy on lingerie."

"The poison." Helena snarled. "Oleander poison- found in the champagne meant for my son."

"Or my daughter." Anastasia snapped at her. She crossed the room in a single stride and clutched Aglaia tight to her, eyes brimming.

"Mama," Aglaia struggled to gently push her away.

" _Hush,"_ she whispered, holding her closer- and tighter.

"Can't breathe," Laia gasped in Danish. She managed to extract herself from her mother's arms.

Konstantinos looked grim. "It was you, wasn't it?" Helena snarled. "What's your plan- kill my son, and the mother of his future heirs, kill my other children and leave yourself the throne?"

Cyrus scoffed. "You really are batty if you think I would risk doing something so obvious." He snorted and swilled his ever-present glass of drink.

"Why not?" Helena snapped. "It's what you did, isn't it? When you barged in when Liam was about to swear the oath and declared yourself fit to be king?" She glared thunderously down at him.

"Subtlety has never been your style, Cyrus."

" _What do you know about STYLE?"_ Cyrus mocked. "You dress up in slutty lingerie every night. And every time there's a stain of semen, you blame it on me."

"You used my nightwear to-" Helena argued furiously.

"I'm hardly the first scoundrel to get semen into it," Cyrus scoffed.

"YOU ONLY HAVE ONE BALL!"

"Okay, that's enough," Robert cut in sternly. The Greek royals were watching. This was _not_ making a good impression on the in-laws. Liam looked down. "Okay, we're in public here. A very _royal_ public," Len corrected.

Aglaia shook his head. "Do you blame everything that goes wrong over here on him?" She asked, aghast.

"Yes!" Came the reply of every Henstridge. James Hill looked away. Aglaia looked astonished.

Dimitri looked at Aglaia. "What are you marrying into?" He asked in Greek.

"Our suggestion is that we go through with the wedding preparations," Alexios said in English. "Just to ensure that nobody suspects anything."

"To keep a tight lid over this affair," Robert announced. "I agree, but sooner or later the world will get out." King Konstantinos warned.

Robert looked grave. "I know."

"You're suggesting that we pretend this has never happened?" Queen Anastasia spluttered. She stepped closer to her daughter again, looking furious.

"We have no choice, not if we wish to catch the culprit," King Konstantinos said sternly.

"But-" her husband shook his head.

* * *

The champagne fountain, _Font of my Love,_ shone in the light.

Cyrus looked moodily at it. Helena's orders were that Cyrus would not be allowed within two-and-a-half metres within touching distance.

"My that is the loveliest piece of art I've ever seen," Veruca's voice trilled beside him. Cyrus turned and rolled his eyes. She beamed. "It's _Font of my Love,"_ Cyrus snorted. "And yes, it's beautiful. Nearly as beautiful as the bride. It was in the Austrian Imperial wedding when Aglaia's equally breathtaking cousin married the Crown Prince. After this, it's going to Monaco for the prince's wedding. Helena threw a tantrum when that thing was nearly lost. Dear Robert wouldn't have anything less for his bride." He swilled brandy.

"Hmm," Veruca sighed. "It's so lovely." She gazed longingly towards it. "Much less tacky than the pieces you and Helena come up with. I seem to remember that the girls have inherited your sense of style."

"At least _I_ have style," Cyrus sneered. "Who does she think she is?"

"The bride?"

"No," he rolled his eyes again. _"Helena."_

Veruca laughed. "Silly. She's the queen of England." She cast a glance at her ex-husband. "And you're just the former, deposed king. Like Henry VI."

"Don't compare me to that half-wit, senile moron," Cyrus scowled as he drank. "And besides," he slurred. "Helena's not going to be queen for long. When Robert's bride has the ring and says, _'I do-'"_

"She takes the crown." Veruca finished. "Unless she says, _'I don't.'"_

Cyrus snorted. "We'll just have to make her," he said quietly. "Won't we?" He turned to his ex. "By the way, was it you?"

"Hmm?" Veruca was still admiring the fountain.

"Was it you?" Cyrus demanded impatiently. "Was it you who put the oleander in?"

"Huh?" Veruca was confused. "Apparently not," Cyrus muttered turning back around.

"But there's still time," he said to himself. "Less than a month."

* * *

"Your majesties, your royal highnesses," The Lord Chamberlain announced. "Here are the final candidates for the design of the wedding dress."

" _Final candidates?"_ Aglaia asked, incredulously, looking at Helena in disbelief.

"Don't ask, _agape mou,_ you know they never do anything by halves here," her mother muttered.

"And you do?" Helena asked, coldly.

The designers came in, wearing pasted smiles upon their faces. Aglaia recoiled. Len touched her hand in assurance and courage.

Not that she needed it. Aglaia appeared as serene and composed as usual.

"Your majesties, your royal highnesses, may I present, Ms. Perrine Bruyere, Mr. James Bawker, Ms. Lucille Russo and Mr. Marco Jamesburg."

Aglaia gave a mechanical smile. The designers smiled all at once and bowed or curtsied respectively.

"Welcome," Helena said smiling. "Please sit," she gestured to the couch opposite one another.

The designers sat, each giving one another cold-eyed, steely glances. They were clearly competitors.

"Thank you for coming," Helena greeted.

"Indeed," Queen Anastasia interrupted. Helena froze. She was going to steal the scene!

"Yes," she said somewhat insistently. "Now, as you are all aware, my future daughter-in-law-" Anastasia stiffened. "Has need of a wedding dress and soon."

"But she has very particular tastes." Anastasia insisted. Helena fake-laughed. "So we've heard." She fixed the Greek queen with a steely-eyed glare.

Len closed her eyes. Not again!

"Your highness- your majesties, I have a few designs sketched out for your inspection." Mr. James Bawker, fast as a hawk, presented the princess with a pile of papers, tied with a pink ribbon. Aglaia managed a smile and looked at them.

His designs were… Elegant, sophisticated, but in a subtle way. Aglaia admired them.

"The detailing is… Marvellous and superb," she smiled at him.

Bawker smiled in return, while the other four seethed.

And it truly was. Aglaia admired the sleek elegance of his outfits. He wasn't just presenting her with a wedding dress, she needed a trousseau, a brand-new wardrobe as queen of the United Kingdom. This man presented her with a sketch of strapless dresses in glowing tones, jewelled cashmere sweaters and boleros, but simple ones. Black draping too. Subtle but luxurious.

The wedding dress sketches presented showcased streamlined, elegant gowns with nipped in waists, some with built-in corset bodices (meant to emphasise décolletages and tiny waists), and long white gloves, giving them a classic look. The most outstanding one was silver-white with a very close-fitting bodice which might've been a very subtle corset bodice, sleeveless with straps that resembled roses. A lovely wrap of the finest Honiton lace from Devon or Alençon lace, had a lovely pattern of snowflakes stitched in Swarovski crystals that echoed on the gown's train. The veil was tulle trimmed in white silk and sewn with pearls. It wasn't such a long veil.

"It's… Amazing," Aglaia breathed. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Bawker beamed. The other three looked furious.

Queen Anastasia stole a peek over her daughter's shoulder. "It's… Quite fine," she began. Then she whispered to her daughter. "But all eyes will be on you. This is perhaps too… Severe and too old for you. Not enough. You are to be queen."

Aglaia blinked. Queen Helena decided to say something.

"Perhaps you would care to show us your ideas, Ms. Russo."

Lucille Russo smirked. She handed Aglaia, who smiled, her designs.

These were certainly… Unique. Lucille Russo certainly loved unique and stylish. She certainly had flare and originality, that was certain. One dress was covered entirely with large white silk apple blossoms sewn with pearls, on the shoulders, all over the bodice and full skirt. The arms were a very sheer gossamer, with the apple blossoms at the cuffs. The veil was sheer silk and she would wear a choker of strings of pearls- collar-like, dangling pearl earrings and a tiny crystal and pearl tiara.

There was another one that was definitely luxurious, in a Bohemian-Renaissance style. Layers and layers of cloud-white chiffon and Renaissance-inspired sleeves, puffed with lilac-coloured ribbons and floral patterns cut into the fabric, adorned with silver lamé at the sleeves and full skirt which was cut to reveal a triangle-like panel, to resemble a Renaissance petticoat. Lilac and violets adorned the gown.

The bride blinked. Queen Helena peeked over her shoulder. "Hmm. A bit too-" 'Hippie hideous' was what she wanted to say.

"Well, I was hoping for more of the classic look," Aglaia insisted.

"Like a marble goddess," Anastasia sounded pleased.

"A symbolic marriage," Helena sniffed at Anastasia. The English queen leaned forwards. "You can't be seen in something too…" She frowned in distaste. "Different."

"Outstanding," Anastasia drawled.

"Shall we move on?" Len interrupted. Ms. Perrine Bruyere was next.

Aglaia thanked her with a smile and gazed at her designs. These were more opulent and show-cased finest luxury in far less subtle ways.

"Oh," she remarked.

This was definitely classic, but not the strapless ball gown style, with long white gloves. This style was charming, exquisite, graceful in an old-time, antique feel.

One of them was a lovely gown of off-white overlaid with gold brocade patterns. The veil was layered with gold embroidery and pinned in place with a diamond headpiece placed like a laurel wreath around the back of her head, in the shape of tiny flowers blooming on delicate branches, bell-shaped gold earrings, and a gold bib necklace studded with diamonds.

Another had a high lace collar and long, tight sleeves of French Valenciennes or English Honiton lace, and a full skirt of plain silk with a lace trim. The veil was silk.

"They're absolutely lovely," Aglaia complimented.

"Yes," Helena hesitated. "A little… Old-fashioned, but very charming." She forced a smile.

"Old-fashioned?" Anastasia asked. "Is that why you chose to decorate your palace Vegas-style as opposed to Versailles?" She smirked.

Helena flushed, and was about to open her mouth when Aglaia all but pleaded for the next designer, Marco Jamesburg, to hand his sketches.

Well, all the designers had their good points. But her mother snarked that this style was more suited for Helena than for her. It screamed _Noveau Riche._ One was heavy silver lamé, adorned with diamond pieces and feathers, another was ivory satin embroidered with pearls and rhinestones, and trimmed in mink (fur?!). At this point the two queens were nearly outright insulting one another, and Aglaia still hadn't found a dress.

"Thank you," she stated, standing. "Please excuse me, I need some air."

"Aglaia-" Len said abruptly. But it was too late. The bride had gone.

* * *

Arsenios' condition was stable but he was still unconscious and he would be monitored henceforth. All everyone could do now, was wait. The bride-to-be and the rest of her family visited him regularly, every day.

"Don't hang yourself over this," Alexios had told the bride.

But Aglaia felt like she was to blame.

In the meantime a man watched and he watched patiently. Hidden to the royals he was spying upon.

* * *

Aglaia tried to breathe. She was far from pleased. As a matter of fact, she was unhappy. Deeply unhappy.

"Aglaia?" Robert's voice sounded and Laia looked up.

It was him, and he stared at her in concern. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she insisted. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," he guided her to a bench. They were in the garden.

"Now will you tell me what's happened?" Aglaia paused at that.

Robert took it in silence. "It's our mothers, isn't it?" He sighed. Robert shook his head. "I should've known."

"Does it matter?" Aglaia pleaded. "I love you."

"And I love you. I never imagined I could love anyone this way, as much as this," Robert insisted.

"But they're not happy, none of them are, except your sister," Aglaia laughed bitterly.

Robert held her close. He could not express his own disappointment. Yet again, family decided to strike where they could hurt the most, he thought.

And it was then, Robert realised that he could take the insults to himself, but not Aglaia.

It shocked him. No, it astounded him, that suddenly the centre of his world had shifted, from the monarchy, from the military, from his people and his family, from himself… To her. Aglaia.

"Meet me after dark," he insisted. "I have something to show you."

Aglaia blinked. "What is it?"

Robert gave a grin. "You'll see."

But a scream rent the air. The bride and groom froze before rushing forth.

What they found nearly made them stop dead.

They were _so_ doomed.

The fountain had disappeared.

* * *

 **I heard the latest news. It was a shock to have the showrunner of _The Royals_ and _One Tree Hill_ accused by so many actresses... It's beyond horrifying. One of the things I love about this show that the actors and actresses always seem to have so much fun on set and with each other off-set. It's beyond horrible. But no matter what the future of the show, I agree, we all have to take a stand against such horrific behaviour. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Royals._ So enjoy!**

* * *

 **For in my day I have had many bitter and painful experiences in war and on the stormy seas. So let this new disaster come. It only makes one more.**

It was the champagne fountain.

The delicate, priceless piece of art was missing.

"WHAT?!" Helena thundered. "WHO DID THIS? WHICH THRICE-DAMNED SON OF A WHORE-"

Liam ran into the room. "What's happened?"

"The fountain!" His mother wailed. "It's gone!"

"Fountain? _GONE?!"_ He blinked. "Somebody stole the fountain?" Everyone turned to look sceptically at the garden fountain outside.

" _NO!_ Not the garden fountain, the _champagne!"_

Maribel gave a gasp. "Somebody stole the champagne?"

"N-" Helena froze, mid-word. "Mr. Hill, I want members of security posted to the wine cellars." She said immediately. "If anyone's trying to guzzle or smuggle them out without my permission, you have my full approval for a restraint."

"Yes, ma'am." James Hill decided it was best not to question it.

"The champagne hasn't been stolen," Helena said through gritted teeth. _Yet._ "But the champagne fountain, _Font of My Love,_ has!"

Gasps of shock and horror echoed from all around.

Liam blinked. "But where did it go?"

"Do you think I would be asking if I knew?" His mother exclaimed.

"All security is reviewing the perimeter around the palace," Jasper announced. "If anyone's made off with the champagne fountain they won't get very far."

"This is a disaster!" Eleanor shouted. "That thing was a priceless work of art, it cost an arm and a leg- a _royal_ arm and a leg!Robert's!"

"It'll cost all the heads in Britain if we don't recover it," Rachel warned. "That fountain was rented by not only Manetas, but the Archduchess and Princess Royal of Austria. They made this together, and it was the archduchess that loaned the fountain to her brother and sister-in-law, Princess Aglaia's cousin, for their wedding. And Monaco's princely family are expecting it for _their_ wedding. They all could file a lawsuit if they think we're being careless."

"Everyone," Helena commanded people's attention. "We need to spread out. Keep moving until we find that fountain. I don't care if you're rich, I don't care if you're poor, I don't care if you're having a drink or scrubbing the toilets-" she frowned. "On second thought, if you are cleaning the lavatories then it's best if you continue. We don't want any toilet water mixing with our champagne. It _ruins_ the expensive taste. But no one, royal or otherwise, shall rest until we find that fountain!"

"What's going on here?" The bride and groom appeared. Everyone had an _Oh, shit_ look on their faces.

"Um…" Helena hesitated.

"The fountain!" Len blurted. "It's missing!"

"WHAT?!" That was both of them.

" _Missing?!"_ Robert looked furious. "How?"

"We think it may have been stolen, your majesty," Jasper confessed.

Robert turned a furious gaze towards everyone in the room. Usually he was in control, and he still was, but his dark blue eyes were furious. "What happened?"

"Your majesty," Rachel spoke up. "The fountain was here this entire time. Then there was an emergency in the other room. Someone had left a cigarette out next to a curtain and, well, it caught fire. Everyone scrambled to put it out, but by the time we replaced the curtain, when we headed back, the champagne fountain was missing."

Robert exhaled he tried to remain calm. Aglaia looked absolutely horrified and upset. "I don't care what anyone is doing," he warned them. "I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if the person involved are royalty or are mopping the floors for us. _No one stops until we find that fountain."_

Everyone was very still in the room. "Understood?"

"Yes sir," was chorused throughout the room. Everyone scrambled to obey.

"Does that include us?" Penelope asked, dopey as ever. "I mean, we're royalty so… Right. Royalty or mopping the floors. We have to, like, mop the floors." She looked aghast at her sister.

"Or we could _pretend_ we're just mopping the floors," Maribel suggested excitedly. "So we don't have to pretend we're looking!"

"Great idea!" Both sisters took off their outlandish scarves and plopped to the ground, bums up pretending to wipe fanatically whenever somebody passed.

* * *

"I can't believe this!" Queen Anastasia raged. "The _Font of My Love!_ It's a priceless, exquisite work of art! Made by Manetas and the archduchess. Once again, a priceless treasure has been lost due to carelessness upon English soil!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helena asked, furiously.

"Only that Michelangelo's _Sleeping Cupid,_ was priceless too! A piece of such breathtaking beauty, created by Michelangelo in the form of a sleeping Cupid, fought over by the highest of the high in Renaissance Italy and the rest of Europe. So beautiful it moved even the hardest and most savage or stone-hearted! In 1698 the sculpture was likely lost in the Palace of Whitehall in London, during the great fire! And now this has happened again!" She glared.

"The Monegasques will be furious!" She warned. "The Austrian and Hungarian imperial family will have our heads! Manetas could take back the wedding rings-"

"He wouldn't dare," Helena warned. "If it hasn't already been paid for-"

"It _has,"_ she insisted.

"Not the full price! Careless stupidity," Anastasia hissed. "And now I suppose, you wish to cover it up?"

"Unless you wish to provide a reasonable explanation to the world press and media, and some serious national disgrace and embarrassment-"

" _Your_ disgrace," she corrected. "Your embarrassment."

"Well, _your_ _daughter_ is going to marry into _our_ family," Helena said. "And become the next queen. So whatever affects us, affects her as well. Bite that, you bitch."

Anastasia gave a chilling smile. "You think you're so clever. So subtle. So smart. In reality, you're about as subtle as when a horse falls on you, which it will sooner or later."

Helena fumed. "You had better find that fountain." Anastasia warned. "Or there will be no wedding. I thought we agreed to this beforehand: no scandal, no nasty surprises. You've already broken it- once! Our security guard was poisoned. There is no way in hell we are going to give our priceless, only daughter, Greece's royal princess, the titular Princess of Crete and of Denmark to a family riddled with turbulence, carelessness, scandal, corruption and debauchery." She spat.

"The other royal families, and presidents have already been warned against you! Why do you think no one's invited you overseas, or they hardly take your invitations, _Queen Helena_? Only your late husband, whom you've betrayed for some gigolo, and your eldest son retains their untarnished, honourable reputation. Ever since the news of the engagement occurred, we've had countless relatives from Greece and Denmark, and other royal counterparts from not just Europe, but Asia, Oceania and the Middle-East, warning us about the likes of you, and questioning our sanity in giving our _only_ _daughter_ \- my _baby-_ over to you people!" Anastasia snarled. "And now this! Disaster after disaster and rot always spreads! I kept my silence, knowing how my daughter felt over your eldest son, personally, she couldn't care less if he was a gardener, but alas, he comes with _you!_ The whole package! And my daughter's life may be in jeopardy! Someone tried to poison her!"

"They tried to poison my son too," Helena gritted her teeth.

"You seemed to have coped with it well last time," Anastasia gave a menacing smile. "After all, didn't you have another son? Isn't that what you thought? Isn't that what you showed the world? Parading one son soon after his brother reportedly passed away?"

Helena struggled not to slap her.

Liam struggled against James Hill and Eleanor against Jasper. Jasper gave stern looks to both of them. They did _not_ want an international diplomatic crisis, or to make things worse.

"Your list of enemies and incompetence never fails to astound me," Queen Anastasia, the English queen's rival, said. "Just remember, the Greek Ministerial Council, the Greek parliament, the Danish cabinet and more can easily revoke their permission for your son to marry our daughter if we have solid evidence and solid proof that her life is in danger- and that she may be dishonoured or her reputation disgraced by the actions of her husband-to-be's family. You have no idea how much she is loved in both countries! And how would you answer to the hopeful, eager masses who view this marriage as a symbol of renewal, hope, life, unity and true love? To your son who's had to fight to marry this one woman?"

Helena froze.

"Find that fountain," Anastasia finally said. "And whoever's behind this!" She strode back and slammed the doors behind her.

* * *

" _Ooh,_ that bitch!" Helena fumed as she strode away, angrier than anyone had ever seen her.

"Have you ever considered that the cigarette might've been a distraction?" Liam asked.

"Well, of course it was," Helena grumbled. "It was the only way to get to the fountain without anyone noticing! A fire tends to be urgent! Buckingham Palace got burnt when someone left some _thing_ without putting it out!"

The Henstridge family had since moved into Blenheim Palace, during the late years and early reign of King Simon's father and Simon himself. For some reason, Buckingham had never been renovated and refurbished. It cost too much money and in recent years the funds had gone for, _ahem,_ other interest, but while some argued that it was a waste of space and money to preserve from further ruin, people in general could not bear to tear down this priceless symbol of the British nation and monarchy."

"Well, what are we going to do?" Len demanded. "We can't _not_ have the wedding, and we can't have the wedding without the fountain!"

"It'll be worse than that, your highness," Rachel said grimly. They had reached the queen's quarters. "The rings were made also by the sculptor Manetas. It was him who designed it, and he paid the jewellers from Wales to supply him with the raw materials. But it was the Archduchess, the Emperor of Austria's daughter who was the genius who taught him how to sculpt and make jewellery. And Manetas still has close ties to her. They made that fountain together and loaned it to her brother and Princess Aglaia's cousin for their wedding. The rings might've been paid, but not the full price. Not yet, until after the wedding. Sorry, but it's the custom here. Manetas and the Archduchess could easily file a lawsuit, _and_ refuse to hand over the rings for the wedding. Not only that, but if word gets out about the poisoning and the scandal-"

"And then it's bye-bye romance and true love," Len said sarcastically. "Yeah. We heard what the queen said. Too much racy scandal and debauchery in this family."

"Well, who was the last person who'd seen it?" Liam asked.

Jasper froze. "Cyrus."

" _WHAT?!"_

"He was there in the room with his ex-wife." Jasper said in realisation. "What?" Helena raged. "I specifically gave orders that he won't be allowed within three-and-a-half metres of that fountain!"

Liam was about to say something, then he stopped. "Why three-and-a-half metres?" He asked.

"So he could look at it, and moon pathetically towards the artwork's beauty, the romance and the alcohol. All at once."

"Wow, that seems a bit too cruel," Len muttered.

"Cruelty is what keeps our enemies in line, dear," Helena reassured her. "Like Edward IV finds out, the only way to stamp out a former king is to bludgeon him to death. Or to drown his rival brother in a barrel of wine." Her eyes gleamed. "A barrel of _Greek_ wine. Malmsey, I recall."

Liam stared. "What, so you're suggesting that we drown Cyrus in a barrel of wine?"

 _Seriously?_ All their faces said.

"Well, the Wars of the Roses did inspire _Game of Thrones,"_ Helena stated. "But no, unfortunately, we can't do that anymore. Hmm, there has to be a loophole," she muttered.

Eleanor shook her head. "Back to the fountain."

"Right." Her mother snapped back to the original line of thought. "Now where to find that son of a bitch."

* * *

"You son of a bitch!" Helena fumed as she barged into Cyrus' suite.

"And here we go again," Cyrus muttered, still in his armchair. "What?"

"The fountain!" Helena fumed. "That gold champagne fountain."

"You mean the _Font of My Love?"_ Cyrus snorted. "I didn't steal it. Your staff could testify at my trial- wait, you're not going to put me on trial, because it's a supreme embarrassment and according to Queen Anastasia, that's more than enough to rip your son's beloved bride away from his grasp. He's never going to forgive you for that either."

Helena didn't question how Cyrus knew about the argument. He always had his spies, toadies and cronies about him. She strode over to him and forcefully shoved his chair around, tipping it forward and propelling him to tumble to the floor.

"Ugh, as if I thought life could not get more degrading." Cyrus muttered, his face pressed against the polished hardwood. "You really think it was me?"

"Who else?" Helena raged. "And the poison? You've killed people before!"

"So has your dear mother," Cyrus spat. "As I recall, she poisoned Violet."

"And so now you've taken revenge by trying to poison Robert's bride," Helena said savagely.

"Poison her?" Cyrus looked up. And for once it registered to Helena that his eyes were blood-shot, his skin was waxy and sallow. There were purple circles under his eyes.

"I lost the love of my life," Cyrus said quietly. "My one true love! Simon lost his! Did you really think that I would wish that pain upon anyone in this whole world, least of whom happens to be my favourite nephew? That may not be much, but it's _something!"_ He spat.

Helena regarded him quietly. "You took Alistair Lacey away from me," she reminded him.

"And you seem to have found happiness with your new Lord Chamberlain, so save it, Helena. Don't act all _Guinevere and Lancelot_ with me." Cyrus groggily stood up, clutching a table to keep him upright.

Cyrus groaned when he saw an empty decanter. "So inconvenient," he moaned.

"I didn't steal your priceless champagne fountain," Cyrus stated. "And I didn't have someone steal it from you either. Not when using a cigarette to burn things up. In case you haven't noticed, I only used to smoke the finest cigars. Cuban. And then I had cancer and I was advised to stop if I didn't want to make things any worse. And if I wanted to _poison_ someone, I wouldn't have gone through with the trouble by importing a rare and pretty flower, with an obvious poison from some distant country, which isn't even the deadliest and fastest-acting poison in the book. Deadly Nightshade. Arsenic. Cyanide. Hemlock, if you wanted Greek." He scoffed. "But not oleander."

Helena was silent. She knew he was right.

"Besides, whoever's trying to kill either one of them wasn't quite so keen into doing it as you might've thought," Cyrus remarked, matter-of-factly. "Oleander and a missing fountain? A fire that could easily be put out, curtains that could easily be replaced? Sounds like someone's certainly trying to prevent the upcoming marriage more than commit regicide."

"It's still treason!" Helena spat. "And have no doubt, I will be watching you, Cyrus." She strode out of the room.

Cyrus sighed. "So inconvenient," he said, gazing forlornly at an empty decanter.

* * *

Penelope and Maribel were still mopping the floors, their newly-bleached bums right in the air, shown through their stockings.

"How long is this going to take?" Penelope asked.

Maribel shrugged. "Dunno. Until they find the fountain. King's orders."

They kept on 'mopping.'

* * *

"I can't believe this," Aglaia tried to keep calm.

"Hush," Robert shushed, but his face was beginning to register the strain of the day.

He pressed and held her close to him. "We'll get through this," he promised.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you," Aglaia responded. "But they did say: if another scandal breaks out-"

Robert's hold tightened around her. "I know," he said softly. "I know."

And he would do whatever it took to stop it.

* * *

The next morning, Helena had received an audience.

"Your majesty, disturbing rumours have run rampant." Rani, the prime minister's deputy sat before her.

Helena forced a smile. "Rumours?"

"Yes, about the world-famous champagne fountain, _Font of My Love."_ She continued. "A priceless work of art. Comparable to Renaissance masters, I've been told." Her eyes narrowed. "There are rumours that it has been stolen."

Helena's smile was plastered firmly on her face.

"I assure you, I have heard nothing of the sort." Helena retorted gently.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Rani said, almost mockingly. Helena didn't know who was worse; this woman or Queen Anastasia. "Because it would be a terrible disaster beyond belief for Britain if we lost the fountain."

Everyone fell into a deadly silence. Eleanor and Liam were uncharacteristically quiet, as was Jasper and Rachel.

"As I've said, this is a priceless work of art, and belongs, in part, to their creators: a famous Greek sculptor, and an even more famous royal artist who has shown the world that despite her high birth, she is more than capable of rising above daily drudgery on her own skills, talents and hard work," Rani said, sweet as poisoned honey. "And as this is a work of art, made by artisans renowned worldwide… It would be a supreme embarrassment, no exaggeration, sadly, for Britain to the international community if it were to be lost on British soil. It would be _especially_ _unfortunate_ if the international community, including the Austro-Hungarian imperial family, were to hear that it has been lost when it is under contract with Britain's royal family. Not to mention, the compensation money for the artisans and the Monegasque princely family who wishes to rent it next, will be enormous. There is a list to hire that priceless piece of art, and already people are being reminded of Michelangelo's _Sleeping Cupid_ which was destroyed in London." Her eyes were icy.

"Our reputations are at risk. I hope you understand, your majesty."

Helena's eyes narrowed in rage. Queen Anastasia. Rani. She had had more than enough.

"I assure you," she ground out. "That everything is proceeding as smoothly as possible."

"Of course," Rani said, a hint of sarcasm barely noticeable. "Because we have had to reassure the Greek and Danish Cabinet ministers and MPs that the princess, as our future queen, will be in good hands. Nothing will ever damage her honour or reputation." She leaned forwards. "Not even a hint of embarrassment. Besides, I heard that Manetas was making the wedding rings. That, I assume proves that all is well, if the wedding is going ahead."

Right. Helena needed alcohol, good strong alcohol to get through this mess.

"But another more disturbing rumour has reached our ears in Downing Street, I assume it's not true," Rani continued sweet as ever.

"Another rumour? My God, these people never seem to stop babbling when free champagne is handed out." Helena remarked, queenly as ever.

Rani gave a smirk. "The rumour that says that one of the Greek royal bodyguards was attacked last night."

"Um, that's not true, pardon my interruption," Jasper interrupted. "One of the bodyguards did indeed get into an accident, but it was because he decided to ingest some brownies that were had macadamia nuts. He's allergic to them." He lied.

"Oh," If Rani was disappointed, she did not show it. "Of course, thank you. There were rumours of poison," she laughed softly.

"Absurd," Helena retorted, laughing.

"Yes," Len laughed, encouraging the atmosphere, Liam gave a mechanical smile but could not join in.

"See everything's fine," Helena forced out. "Everything is going according to plan."

* * *

"Everything is hell in a handbasket!" Helena fumed later on. "Or a very expensive Prada!"

She turned to Spencer and Rachel. "Any news on the fountain?"

They both shook their heads. "None whatsoever, ma'am." Spencer said forlornly.

"Confound it," Helena cursed. "So we've lost the fountain. We may be facing international public embarrassment and disgrace like never before- and apparently based on what everyone's been saying, that's something! We may be seen to be incompetent, careless, debauched, spendthrift, scandal-riddled, and much worse!" She collapsed onto a chaise lounge. "Very bad! Bad Cyrus!"

Spencer tried to reason with her. "Your majesty, surely Cyrus would never do anything that might be traced back to him? Quite frankly, he is quite clever."

"Yes, you're right, damn it." Helena groaned. "So who and most importantly, _where_ can it possibly be?" She moaned and leaned back. "It can never get worse than this!"

Unfortunately for Helena, Robert, Aglaia, Liam, Eleanor, Jasper, Rachel, Cyrus and just about anyone involved, it was only the beginning.

* * *

" _SKATA!"_ The Greek sculptor swore. "You're telling me that there are rumours that the fountain- _my_ champagne fountain- has been stolen?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Spencer pasted a convincing, sympathetic face to the sculptor.

"Damn them," Manetas cursed. "This is much trouble!" He growled. "That fountain is going to Monte Carlo, to the Prince's Palace next, for their wedding. And countless aristocrats and billionaires, even a few lucky millionaires are on the waiting list. If they think it's gone-"

"Don't worry, sir, we'll just assure them it's just rumours," Spencer said pleasantly.

"Better proof than speculation," Manetas growled. "I want that fountain displayed the night before the wedding. I will be there- along with a few others- at the Pre-wedding concert's after-party."

Spencer froze. _Oh shit._ That was written all over his face, but thankfully, Manetas who was pacing furiously, did not see.

"Of course, it had better not be stolen for real," he said threateningly.

"Of course not, sir." Spencer forced. "No need to worry."

When he turned away with Rachel, he muttered: "We are so doomed."

* * *

"I just don't understand," Liam complained. "How did a priceless work of art be left unguarded and go missing in less than thirty minutes?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jasper muttered.

Robert had walked in the room, with Len beside him. "This is an actual disaster," he announced. "Not just for the wedding-"

"Never mind that the sculptor's the one who did your wedding rings, though the materials were mined here," Len pointed out.

"Right," Robbie sighed. "And we haven't paid the full price, because it's customary to pay them _after_ the event. But the immediate problem is, what happened to the fountain?"

"Well, Mum's under the impression that Uncle Cyrus-" Eleanor began.

Robert shook his head. "You can't blame Uncle Cyrus for every single thing that goes wrong."

"Why not?" Len shrugged.

"For starters, we still haven't solved whoever poisoned that guard," Robert said.

"No," Aglaia stepped into the room. Robert stood. "Darling. I didn't expect you back so soon."

Aglaia shook her head. "It just occurred to me. The poisoning; not very well done. The fountain; a major incident which could potentially cause great embarrassment and disgrace. Someone isn't trying to kill, here. Whoever's behind this, they want to make you guys look bad."

Everyone stared at one another.

"Think about it," Laia insisted. "That thing is priceless. It's sought after by other royals for their wedding. When we saw that thing at my cousin's wedding in Vienna… Everyone was in awe. It's a work of art, by a master artist and her apprentice, who is now a famous sculptor in his own right. _Internationally_ renowned and world-famous to say the least. And the Ministerial Council and Danish Cabinet have made it clear, they don't want any scandals or _mildly interesting_ incidents to occur. Or else they would withdraw their permission." She sighed at Robert. "That was the agreement."

"Yeah, it was." Robert said quietly. "I did give my word."

"You can't control this," Aglaia said gently. "Robbie, this isn't your fault. But whoever is behind this will try to make it look like you guys- the British royal family and the palace staff and security- look like you're to blame. That's beyond embarrassing. This could have serious consequences for you guys and your international standing. Not just your reputation, but your place in several important organisations. If you are seen as careless, and even mildly incompetent, it's not just a drop in invitations to international conventions, talks, treaties and galas and celebratory events. It's everything. Your seat in important organisations. Things like world health, preservation of antiques and works of art, and even climate change may refuse to do business or talks and agreements with any of you. Especially as my cousin's new family- one of whom created that fountain- is high in standing in many of those."

Robert sat on the couch. His hands covered his face. "I know."

"So," Aglaia stated. "Who was the last one to see it?"

"Well, that would be me, your highness." Jasper spoke up.

"This was before the fire incident?"

"Yeah," Jasper frowned thoughtfully. "I think-" he frowned.

"There were two guys bringing in a potted plant the other day," he remembered. "We didn't pay much notice to it, it didn't have any flowers, in any case, but for a moment, I think I saw a red one."

"Oleanders come in different shades, but red is one of them." Aglaia stated. "This is a good start."

"Yes," Robert looked up. He stood.

"Did you see what the men looked like?"

"They were the same palace staff bringing in the delivery."

"Where is this plant now?" Aglaia asked.

Jasper's eyes widened. "In the dining hall."

* * *

They rushed there as quickly as possible.

"There." Jasper pointed.

Aglaia leaned towards it. "It has the same erect stems, but apart from that, they're not the same." She looked at the others. "I've gardened with my mother as a young girl. This isn't oleander."

"But the flower," Jasper began. "I had a brief glimpse of it, but it looked the same."

Robert knelt. "Where is the flower?"

"There," Aglaia pointed. And it _was_ oleander. Fuchsia-coloured in the dim light, Aglaia stopped them from touching it.

"It could still have fingerprints." She breathed. "They've hidden the flower there."

"Well, none of our security personnel are expert botanists," Robert reasoned. "They couldn't have known."

"No," she agreed. Len leaned down and squinted at the flower. It was very pretty.

"How is it still fresh?" Liam asked. "If they've brought it from a Mediterranean country-"

"At the very least," Aglaia corrected. "It could be from farther than that. North Africa, even. But see, it looks somewhat-"

"Like it's been wilted, but it hasn't." Robert said softly.

"No," Aglaia breathed. "It's been pressed. Preserved. Someone would've had time to extract the juice and essence of the plant, before it's dried. This is a fake clue. They wanted us to find this."

"A false trail," Robbie murmured thoughtfully. "Very clever."

"But they didn't want to kill us," Aglaia breathed. "That's all they want to do: stop the wedding."

"Do you have idea who might have that motive?"

Aglaia scoffed silently. "The list is endless," she said bitterly.

Robert sighed. "Our reputations have taken a nose-dive since Dad died," he said quietly.

"What did they say?" His brother asked.

Robert shrugged. "They only reminded me that my father was murdered by his own head of security who had a grudge against this family, and that my 'accident' was the same. And that my mother was publicly disgraced and admitted to an affair which resulted in my uncle taking advantage of this opportunity to dispute my brother's claim to the throne, and make himself king. Which in the end, resulted in them mistrusting him, and a fake paternity test, which is widely believed to have been the result of bribery and corruption, which means that if Aglaia were to marry into this family, her life and her reputation will be on the line." He fell silent.

"It wasn't easy to get them to agree to the engagement." Robert confessed.

"No," Aglaia said quietly. She touched his hand. He looked at her.

* * *

After that false lead, Liam was back in his room, wondering why on earth his brother was getting married. To a woman who seemed exceedingly smart, no less. It surprised him. Kathryn was no fool, and Ophelia and Gemma weren't either, but they had never seemed to use those traits as much as Aglaia suddenly did. It surprised him. Partly because he realised that Aglaia's intelligence had been suppressed by her mother and his mother arguing, her caught in the middle and trying to pacify them. Aglaia was devoted to her family, and he could tell they especially loved and doted upon her. But she wasn't as naïve as he had at first assumed her to be.

It surprised Liam. Gemma had never cared much for academics, and Ophelia while smart and sweet, did not adhere to her intelligence as much as she would- who in their circle did? Kathryn was sweet and sensible, smart too, but she had never had the guts to stand up like that and take a stand in investigating the way Aglaia did- which showed that she wasn't just smart enough to do so- she was brave.

So why did she go for Robert? Why did she want to marry him?

Liam had seen the way the Greek queen held her daughter closely (and tightly) to her. How she smothered Aglaia and it was quite clear she was unwilling to let her daughter go. Both brothers clearly showed that they were worldly and experienced, but Aglaia, despite her intelligence, was left light-years behind. Possibly because she was the youngest, possibly because she was the only girl. But undisputedly because they smothered her.

Hence the contrast of naïveté and high intelligence.

Liam sighed. He wondered why he couldn't get his brother's fiancée out of his mind. Maybe it was because he was concerned over what she was getting herself into.

Yes, that was it.

But an uncomfortable feeling persisted in telling him that it _wasn't._

* * *

The king and his fiancée were holding each other close.

He watched them in the gardens. He noticed how the young king tenderly caressed her lovely face and gazed deep into those emerald eyes. No other person had eyes so vivid and richly-coloured an emerald green as hers. Nor were any pairs of green eyes so bright and clear. Her cousin, who had recently married in Vienna, had violet eyes similar in clarity and beauty, but a different shade.

The fountain that had stood on display at the imperial wedding banquet in Vienna would not be seen in London. This wedding would not take place.

One way or another, the princess would not be marrying into the Henstridge family. Not after what they had done.

A treasure was gone. Reputations destroyed. Life's works, gone down the drain.

And now they had to pay. The British monarchy was rotten to the core. Now they had to fall.

The House of Henstridge would end.

* * *

"And here comes the bridesmaid!" Len cheered.

Sarah Alice pranced around in her tutu outfit, curtsying this way and that to both princesses. Aglaia had taken a real shine to Sarah Alice, who surprisingly felt the same way. Len almost felt jealous.

"I think we should stick with white," Aglaia said. "A deep red sash for her. And white ballet shoes. Rosebuds in her hair."

"I'm starting to think roses are your favourite," Len joked.

"Wow, that obvious?" Aglaia rolled her eyes. "Classic, I know. I'm surrounded by classical statues and fluted columns. I should be used to such things."

"Mr. Caterpillar says that I won't be on my own, but you will be holding my hand." Sarah Alice said proudly to Len.

"Mr. Caterpillar?" Aglaia sounded amused.

"Jasper." Len snickered. "His eyebrows look like caterpillars." Sarah Alice explained.

Aglaia bit back a fit of laughter. "Oh. Okay then."

"Well," she sighed. "I think I've decided to go with Mr. Bawker's design."

Eleanor blinked. "You sure?"

Aglaia said, "Yeah, I'm sure. Of course I'm not sure. But they don't hate it so much so..."

"Oh. Yeah." Len nodded sagely.

"What dress will you be wearing to the ball and wedding?"

"Well, I'm not allowed to say." Aglaia winked at Sarah Alice "It's a surprise."

"A nice surprise?"

"Hopefully a very nice one." She smiled.

Little did she know, the wedding would be hard to come by.

* * *

Maribel and Penelope snored on the hardwood floor. Helena stood there, hands on her hips, sighing at the two pathetic, crazily-dressed lumps that were her nieces.

Sighing, Helena reviewed the case of the golden fountain. Gone. Palace had sealed all perimeters. Nothing.

Of course, Blenheim Palace had a hundred-and-eighty-seven rooms and two-thousand acres of land so… Yes, that would be a problem.

Helena sighed and left the two red-haired princesses slumped on the floor.

What to do? They were facing international disgrace, embarrassment and further ostracization from other royal houses. As much as Helena hated Anastasia, this marriage was the Henstridges' only chance to reconnect to the wider world. After so many rumours of corruption, debauchery, back-stabbing, scandals and more (can't keep a lid on everything), including the proven DNA fiasco, powerful government figures, heads-of-state and royals from other countries were giving the Henstridges- and by extension, the British government- a wide berth. It did not help that Cyrus actually threw money to the crowds and placed a reporter in a cage with newspaper!

So in other words, they were under pressure. And while it was okay (not in Helena's mind!), for the British royals to be ostracised and shunned, it was not okay for the British government to be so! It alienated Britain, and made prices of imported goods rise. That included Hermes Birkin bags, Louboutin Shoes and Van Cleef & Arpels jewels from the continent, and olive oil (from Greece), silk (Turkish and Italian) and so much more. Brexit certainly did not help either. It was becoming increasingly difficult, apparently, to even travel to Monaco, Vienna, Milan or Paris. A royal marriage was a start-

* * *

"So we need this wedding," Helena insisted. "We cannot thrive without it."

Everyone stared at her.

Sarah Alice put up her hand. Honestly, who let a child into such an important meeting as this.

Helena suppressed a sigh. _"Yes,_ Sarah Alice."

"So the wedding is all planned and ready? Why can't it be now?"

"Well, I'm afraid we have to wait- we have to invite a lot of people."

"I thought they sent back our invitations," Liam spoke up.

Helena fumed silently. "Not anymore. They've accepted. They're coming. I want everyone- and by everyone, I mean everyone- on their best behaviour. And that includes you, Cyrus. And your daughters." She zeroed in on them.

"Halos of an angel," Cyrus sighed. "Might as well wear that to the ball, idiots of my loins."

"What about the fountain?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, we're working on it," Helena blustered unconvincingly.

"In other words, we're doomed," Cyrus continued as he took a swig.

"I mean it!" Helena fumed out loud. "No scandals, no mistakes, nothing that will get people so much as _whispering,_ about _mildly amusing things,_ not even a broken teacup!" She stamped her foot on the floor, startling people. "No bad jokes, no _dumb_ jokes, no dumb _blonde_ and brunette jokes or lawyer jokes- or anything mildly amusing!"

"So you want us to be boring?" Eleanor asked, with a deadpan gaze.

"Well, ye- I mean, no!" Her mother shouted. "I want people to talk about how lovely and un-trashy and tacky the table centrepieces are, the floral decorations, how exquisitely delicious the food is- how very gorgeous that fountain looks, and not that it's missing! I mean, we need them to talk about very good things, not anything that might be interpreted as bad!"

She paced up and down. "I mean this is an actual disaster. We've had protests in front of Downing Street complaining that olive oil and Wiener Schnitzel, paprika and Frankfurter sausage prices have gone up! We've had pouty-faced celebs, trotting about in their high heels whining about how their trip to Monaco costs extra! One more scandal and we're finished! We might as well have had the referendum on the monarchy, because soon, the very fabric of Britain will be chucked in the Stone Age dryer and come out… Destroyed!"

Everyone was taken aback at this message. "I take it things are quite serious," Liam said slowly.

"Why do you think your brother is so rarely seen these days out of his office?" Helena demanded. "Even at dinner? Because it's a mess, and this is our one chance to fix diplomatic ties and get back as part of the wider world!

"So keep in mind, everything has to go smoothly! We can't afford any mistakes!"

* * *

For one hour, Robert was able to take Aglaia riding.

That itself was miraculous. "And this is Stormshadow- not the G.I Joe character," Robert joked. "He's my favourite."

Aglaia stroked his glossy black mane. Robert touched her fingers. His eyes met hers.

"I love you," he said quietly. She gave a small smile. "I love you too." They kissed.

Later, Aglaia found herself a lovely mare and both were trotting gaily.

"How goes work?" She asked.

Robert hesitated. He sighed. "Difficult." He admitted.

Aglaia sighed. "So it's the same." She pulled the reins closer to his horse.

Robert smiled and touched her arm, wishing they could walk together. He spotted a pond. "Let's walk from here, give these horses a rest. They could use a drink." Aglaia agreed.

They did just that, and when the horses drank, he pulled her tight to him, kissing her passionately.

It ended up becoming a bit more passionate than that. Robert pressed her against the shade of a tree. He ran his hand over her slender, shapely leg and pressed the lower parts of their anatomy together. A groan ripped from his mouth. Aglaia tried to speak through their kiss. "Not now. Not here."

"When?" Robert didn't allow her pause as he kissed her savagely. "Yes, now!"

His hands went inside her riding jacket, but Aglaia tore her mouth away. Robert ended kissing down her neck, possibly planting a hickey there in the process. he pressed himself closer, pulling her even tighter to him, eliciting a gasp.

"I thought we agreed after the wedding." Robert finally paused, sighing. "Damn it." He muttered.

"No scandals," she whispered.

"We've already done it."

"But they don't know it! Only after the wedding!"

Aglaia insisted on this. She knew they couldn't jeopardise their chances of being together. Neither of them could.

Robert sighed. "Fine." He withdrew reluctantly. "But once this is done…" His eyes gleamed. The dark blue of them turned stormy.

Aglaia flushed. "Deal?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Deal," she said, amused.

"We have to get back," she insisted.

The wedding dress fitting was at five, and Aglaia knew too much time together sorely tempted them.

They got back on their horses, which was a lucky thing since some people came running up to them.

"Excuse me, your majesty, your highness," one panted. "But the prime minister's here to see you."

Robert contained a sigh. "I'll be there shortly," he promised them.

Aglaia smiled at him. Just then, he could hear people laughing in the background. "Looks like Liam and our mates are having a go," he said, absently.

"I'll go see them," she smiled at him. "Go."

He went off.

Aglaia rode back to where Liam was playing a bout of polo with one of Robert's friends, named Twysden Beckwith the Second, otherwise known as Beck.

It was a savage bout of polo. Aglaia got the slightly eerie feeling that they were trying to kill one another.

She stepped off her horse and walked forwards. Len spotted her first. "Hey!" She cheered. Penelope and Maribel simultaneously greeted her.

"I take it you're enjoying some time off too," Aglaia noted amused. She glanced at where Alexios was in deep discussion with some black-clad security guards. It looked serious. She kissed Len on both cheeks.

"Where's Robbie?" Len asked.

"He had to go back to work," Aglaia said, somewhat sadly. "Things are tense for him now." Eleanor nodded. So, their mum wasn't exaggerating. "It's getting harder to spend time with him."

"Your royal highness," Beck cheered as he rode his horse to a gallop, then stopped. "How nice to finally see you again! But where's the king?"

"Busy working," Aglaia said with a smile. "Urgent matters of state." Liam rode to a stop beside Beck.

"Aglaia," he said in surprise. "Hello, Liam," she smiled warmly at him. Liam's heart sputtered to a stop, then started pounding blood all over his body again.

"You ride quite well," she complimented him, her emerald eyes fixed solely on him. Liam tried to remember how to think. "Um… Thank you," he said.

"Well, I had best be going," Aglaia sighed. "Why not stay a while?" Beck asked. "Enjoy the sun?" Aglaia smiled and shook her head. "I have to get this horse back and rested. She's had enough exercise, now what she needs is a good rest. She's going to be one of the horses pulling the carriage for the day." Aglaia smiled. Then she shuddered. "I hate carriage rides," she muttered.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Liam said. "Do you know the way back?" Aglaia laughed. "I think it's… That way?" She asked, hopefully. Liam chuckled.

"I'll come with you," he offered. The two of them rode their horses to the direction of the stables.

On the way, Liam tried to find some conversation, to break the awkward silence. She was quite close to him. "So how's preparations for the wedding?" He asked her.

Aglaia's lashes swept downwards. "It's stressful," she admitted. She looked up again, and Liam was struck just by how clear and bright those emerald orbs were.

"So you'll be Robert's supporter?" She asked, somewhat hopeful. Liam nodded. "I will be."

"The Best Man," she smiled. "I hear Beck's jealous. Is that why the two of you were fighting hard-out on the pitch?" Liam froze.

"How did-" Aglaia surprised him by laughing. He stopped. He had no idea her laughter was this musical.

Once when Liam was a little boy, he had gone hiking with his father up north. Robert and Len had gone too, but their mother had stayed behind. And at night they would lie back and count the thousands of stars, uncountable, in Liam's mind, shining and shimmering in the night. Amidst the snow-crowned mountains, the starlight reflected on the cool, deep blue of the clear Scottish loch, amidst the forest, the trees with its serene, calm presence… There was wonder. There was beauty. And at the evening, the birds sang to one another amidst them.

And now Liam felt like he was hiking up the mountains again, reaching that special, special place, which had stayed in his memories as one of his happiest, his most exciting adventure. He hadn't thought about that memory in years, though.

Until today. It felt like he was reliving it again, just by riding with her.

Seeing her beauty with her smile, her laughter. She was truly like no other. And it wasn't just her unearthly beauty, but her presence, her calm, her serenity, her understanding… Everything.

Liam was mystified. Is this what Robert sees in her?

Was that why he was falling in love? Or did he aim to enjoy her and for the marriage to bring closer ties to the continent and the outside world as Mum insinuated?

Liam's gaze was fixed on her for so long that he didn't realise that something had happened.

A creaking noise was all it took for both of them to look up in bewilderment, before something came crashing down.

Onto the bride.

Liam reacted. Aglaia had grabbed her horse's reins and the mare reared, but the massive thing- whatever it was- leapt in front of it, and rolled to the side.

That was when Liam realised that it wasn't some _thing._ It was some _one._

Someone dressed in black with a ski-mask.

"Aglaia!" Liam shouted.

The person- whoever he or she was- grabbed the reins of Aglaia's mare with one gloved hand and pulled the bride down with the other. Aglaia didn't even have time to react. Her riding helmet was askew, the straps broken as she was being dragged away.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" Liam yelled, as he raced towards them on the horse. He picked up his polo mallet and aimed an almighty swing towards the kidnapper's head.

It nearly worked. Whoever this was caught the mallet in mid-swing, and slammed his knee into Liam's middle. Liam doubled over. Through his blurred vision he could see Aglaia grabbing the guy with a choke-hold from behind to keep him from hurting Liam, only that the man twisted his arm around her, and knocked her off her feet. He swung her up like she was already a newly-wed and knocked her out with one blow. The person- most likely a guy by the silhouette- swung her over his shoulder and proceeded to walk away.

"LAIA!" Liam yelled. He staggered to his feet and prepared to punch the fellow, only for the guy to catch his fist. For a split second, Liam was stunned; he was an expert boxer. Admittedly, Robert could best him, but few people could. This guy caught his fist in mid-swing.

The kidnapper slammed his fist into Liam's gut and then onto his back. Liam staggered to the ground. He seized his chance and grabbed the kidnapper's leg- only realising belatedly that this could hurt Aglaia if she fell. But the kidnapper fell anyway, dropping the unconscious princess and rolling sideways to kick Liam in the head, before seizing his chance to-

"FREEZE!" Came a voice. Several security guards, Greek and British, came running. Liam saw a wide-eyed, pale-faced Len behind them, as the guards aimed their guns towards the would-be-kidnapper.

In a split second, the assailant grabbed a hidden knife and slashed it against Liam's arm. Liam gasped as the hot pain registered in him and he felt the blood flow. Throwing the knife in their direction, along with a few more unseen ones, they security guards broke to dodge them. Liam fell to the ground to avoid the sounds of gunfire as the mysterious kidnapper made a run for it.

The last person to stop shooting was Prince Alexios. He cursed.

"Spread out!" He ordered in Greek. "Secure the perimeter of the palace grounds. No one enters and no one leaves!" He went over to his sister.

Liam staggered over to her. "Take it easy, your highness," James Hill warned him. "Liam," Jasper tried to say. Len rushed forwards. But Liam only had eyes for the bride.

"Aglaia," he said desperately. She was held in Alexios' arms. Her emerald eyes fluttered open.

Liam sagged in relief. Things had just gotten from bad to worse.


End file.
